


Take Me Home

by bucolicallysublime



Category: Merlin (TV), Mimi wo Sumaseba | Whisper of the Heart, Mimi wo Sumaseba | Whisper of the Heart (Anime)
Genre: Crossover, Library, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucolicallysublime/pseuds/bucolicallysublime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover fic between Whisper of the Heart and Merlin (BBC). Merlin is a teenager enjoying his last few weeks of summer when he finds out that a mysterious person named Arthur Pendragon has been reading all the same books he has. At the same time, he encounters a huge prat and only later discovers that they're the same person. Merlin tries to discover himself while also hiding the fact that he may or may not be in love. Semi-modern high school AU. Basically follows the story of Whisper but with the engaging characters of Merlin and co.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Milk Bags and Paper Days

**Author's Note:**

> This is an inspired work; therefore, it is necessary for me to negate any ownership of any of the characters created by the BBC/Shine or the plot that inspired this by Hayao Miyazaki and Aoi Hiiragi.  
> Also, I recommend you watch Whisper of the Heart if you haven't already. It's a beautiful movie and I can only hope my version does it justice.

Errands again. It seemed like mum always needed something. Why she couldn’t go herself on the way home from work, Merlin didn’t know. It’s not that he minded; Camelot was beautiful at night. The big city filled the air with sounds and light. The convenience store wasn’t far, and people seemed just as excited about life as he was. 

There was something about life in the city that Merlin loved. He had only lived in the city a few months, so that might have explained his awe for it, but he still couldn’t get over how big the buildings were, or how grand the whole thing looked lit up.

He got home, taking note of the moths swarming above entryway in the light. It reminded him of that one scene from the book he had just finished. Which made him think of the book he was just about to start. 

He climbed the stairs in a hurry, eager to get back to reading. He was grateful that Will, his elder brother, was at their aunt’s house that night. That meant he could stay up later than usual and read in the early hours of the morning, his favorite time to read.

“You asked for a bag for the milk? Really?” Hunith tutted, looking at Merlin with an odd smile.

“They gave it to me!”

“You could have told them not to. Oh Merlin, you’re so absentminded.”

Merlin just grunted in reply. He supposed he was a bit absentminded, but it wasn’t his fault; there were so many amazing things to distract himself with. No matter how many times he told himself to focus, to think ahead, to be considerate, he tended to be wrong footed in the end. Better to just hope for the best.

Merlin sat down with a glass of iced tea and started to open his book again. His dad, Balinor, soon joined him at the table.

“Oh, I have work tomorrow,” he said, sounding just as absentminded as Merlin. “Shouldn’t be home til late. And I think I’ll get lunch there; the library’s switching to a barcode system, so we’re backed up with work.”

“Barcodes?” Balinor had him at library. Merlin was always pestering him about new books and such. “Why? I mean, I know it’s probably easier, but I like the book cards. There’s something more personal about it,” he mused, looking at the card in his book fondly.

“I agree with you there. But there’s nothing we can do about it; efficiency has won out this time.”

“Nothing romantic about that,” Hunith said. “Oh, honey, would you help me with this thing on the computer? I’m not sure how to work it still...”

As his parents bustled about with the computer, Merlin took a closer look at his book card. A name had stuck out to him. It was familiar in some way, he just wasn’t sure how...

It was a nice script, and it read:

Arthur Pendragon 7.05

July 5th. Huh. That was over a month ago. But...hold on. That name. He had seen it on something else he had, on a different book.

“Goodnight mum, night dad,” he said, excusing himself rather quickly. There was a mystery to solve here.

“Night, Merls. Don’t stay up too late,” his dad called out after him. 

Merlin grunted in assent and hurried to his desk. His room was cluttered already--books, posters, magazines, loose papers, tissues (that last book had been a tear-jerker), water cups...the place really was a sty. But he knew exactly what he was looking for and exactly where to find it.

There! In another book, he found a card with the same name:

Arthur Pendragon 7.27

And then another:

Arthur Pendragon 7.28

“Who are you...” Merlin said absently to the book cards, as if they would tell him. “I want to know why you read the same books as me. Or is it just coincidence? Are you a good person? Obviously you have good taste...”

An image of Arthur Pendragon was already forming in Merlin’s mind. He was attractive, of course. Really attractive. Probably tall, handsome, rugged, charming, sweet...everything Merlin valued in his fictional character crushes. 

Later that night, when he went to sleep, Merlin thought of Arthur Pendragon and smiled.

 

Warmth, sunny warmth.

The sun was leaking with fervor through the thin blinds of Merlin’s room. Will was already awake and stomping around the flat, but Merlin had only just awoken. It was mid-morning or so, and one of the last days he would be able to lie in like this before school started. 

That was to be thought of some other time. For now, Merlin wanted to savor this moment, this ethereal half-wakened state of the memory of delicious dreams and happy thoughts. He had been dreaming about something great...rice cakes, maybe, or sweets...and they had been in great abundance, surrounding him and he had been eating and it was delicious...

“MERLIN!”

Surprise, surprise. Here was Will at last.

The door to their shared room opened with a thud. He must have returned to pick up his stuff before heading to work. 

“I’m leaving! I’m going to work, but you need to put the slow cooker on! And get up, you bum, it’s nearly eleven.”

“Eleven!” Merlin squawked, rubbing his eyes and hastily removing the bed sheet. “I’m supposed to meet Gwen! I’ve got to go!”

“That’s what you get for having a lie in everyday!” Will shouted from somewhere in the kitchen.

“Shut up!” Merlin yelled back as he flew into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Merlin, where’s my wallet?” 

“I don’t know! By the phone, maybe? Get your shit together, Will!” he teased, the foam from his toothpaste starting to leak out of his mouth.

“Says the guy who didn’t even bother to change into his pajamas! You’re useless, Merls,” he quipped back. Then his voice changed tenor rapidly. “Hey, it _was_ by the phone! Thanks, see you later.”

Merlin grinned and hurried into his clothes. He had time for a really, really quick breakfast if he made it now. The toast was soon ready, the slow cooker set on, and in less than ten minutes, Merlin was practically set to go. Just as he was shoving warm bread into his mouth, though, he glimpsed something from between the hanging sheets out on the balcony.

“A blimp!” he shouted in glee. “It’s so near!”

The blimp’s message read, “Have a nice day!” and somehow, Merlin knew it would be. 

The temperature outside was blindingly hot, but Merlin actually liked it that way. It made the shade all that much more enjoyable. The world looked beautiful; bright blue sky contrasted by heavy white clouds, maybe eventually storm clouds, but for now, just brilliantly bright and fluffy ones. A dog barked at him as he passed its gated home, and he merely smiled and waved. Merlin was one who truly believed that all animals were like good friends.

It wasn’t a very long walk to the school where he and Gwen were to meet, but it was pleasant. He decided before seeing Gwen, though, he had to make a pitstop. 

 

“Mr. Gaius! Will you please let me in?”

Merlin wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea, but he had to try.

“Why on earth do you want to get into the school library right now? School starts in a few weeks!” Mr. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

“I have to read 20 books before school starts so I can get a new record, and the public library doesn’t have this one! Please, please let me in! It’ll only take me a second.”

Mr. Gaius just sighed and gestured for Merlin to follow. 

He found the book in a matter of seconds. It was the Fairy Tale book of his dreams; old Norse legends and Japanese myths and British folklore all in one.

Mr. Gaius checked it out to him with a fond smile. He was carefully marking the book cards when Merlin's breath hitched in surprise

“Pendragon! Mr Gaius, do you know who this is?" Merlin pointed to the seal on the back of the book.

“Oh, Merlin, you’ve made me mess up the card!” Gaius cried out, exasperated. “What is this you want to know?” He examined the name more closely. “Oh, I’ve heard the name before. I’m fairly sure a Pendragon used to work here. You may need to ask around, though; someone could know more than me.”

“Alright, thank you.” Merlin was a bit disappointed. He never really had expected to figure out who Arthur Pendragon was, but for a second, he had been one step closer.

Suddenly, the door of the library opened and Gwen came marching in.

“Merlin!” 

Her voice was not in the least friendly.

“Gwen!” Merlin replied, startled. “Sorry! So sorry, I--”

“What are you doing here! I’ve been waiting out in the sun for you this whole time! I’m going to be all freckly,” she pouted, her cute little face set in a definite look of annoyance. 

“Sorry! I had to get this book! I was headed right down,” he said meekly, returning Gwen’s irritation with a grin. “I don’t think you look too bad!”

“Miss Smith’s complexion is a conversation for another place,” Gaius suddenly interrupted. “Time for both of you to leave.”

“Yes, sorry Mr. Gaius,” Merlin said, taking Gwen by the elbow and pulling her away.

They headed outside to a bench nearby the baseball fields. 

“Oh, Gwen, I wanted to show you the lyrics I wrote for the senior recital.” 

He said it in all seriousness, so Gwen wasn’t quite prepared for what she read:

Concrete roads  
Made of Stone  
I’ll kill off trees  
To get me home  
carbon dioxide  
hole in the ozone  
destroying my home,  
concrete roads.

Before it had ended, she was giggling uncontrollably and so was Merlin.

“Merlin, this is unbelievable! I think we should give it to them to sing,” she said with a sly grin, her pretty curls shaking around her face.

He grinned just as mischievously, but he was a bit kinder. “Nah, it’s not that great. But I think it fits this place,” he said, absentmindedly. “City life and all, you know.”

“Must be a huge change from Ealdor.”

“For sure. I mean, I like Camelot, it’s beautiful. Just in a different way. But Gwen, you told me yesterday that we had to talk about an ‘issue.’ What’s up?”

As he looked at her, Merlin noticed a huge shift in how Gwen held herself. She seemed suddenly to curl in defensively, as if she had debated about whether or not it was a good idea to even tell Merlin that a problem had arisen. Their friendship had blossomed quickly, but she still seemed reserved at times. Merlin tried not to feel offended that Gwen still held back a bit; it was getting better. 

“It’s just...” she trailed off listlessly. “Have you ever been in love with anyone?”

Merlin was taken aback for a second. He was expecting her to tell him something, not to ask him something, and love...well, it instantly made him think of Arthur Pendragon for some reason, the name forming itself in his brain before he could stop himself thinking it.

He merely shook his head. 

“I want someone to be with. I want someone I can hold hands with and kiss and be close to. I think life would be easier to bear, because I’ve realized I hate being lonely and I worry about being alone. And exams would be easier to study for--”

“Gwen! You’re in love! This isn’t about exams! This is about the fact that someone’s caught your fancy!”

Gwen turned away self consciously, but it just made Merlin more persistent. 

“Who? Who?”

Gwen leaned in and whispered.

"Someone sent me a love letter."

“A love letter!!” Merlin shouted in response. 

“Shusssshhh!!” she cried, putting her hands up to stop him speaking. “Merlin! You can’t go shouting things out like that! Do you want everyone to hear??”

Merlin cast a sideways glance at the baseball team on the fields. They seemed pretty absorbed. He turned back to Gwen, wicked grin still in place. 

“The guy...he’s in another class. He’s not bad to look at, I guess. Relatively hot.”

Merlin frowned. “Relatively?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to tell you who because I don’t want to embarrass him, you know.”

 _Gwen and her honor code,_ Merlin thought. _Always thinking of others before herself._

“No, I understand. But there’s no reason not to at least try it out. If it goes wrong, no problem! You just move on, no big deal.”

Merlin’s vision was simple: if Gwen didn’t like the bloke, she didn’t have to date him. It was all a matter of perspective. He had been told by Will, who seemed to possess infinite wisdom about all matters of the heart after a short relationship he had with a girl named Freya, that his outlook on love and relationships was childishly simple; naive, even. But Merlin didn’t let this bother him. As far as he could tell, rejection was easy enough, and as long as you didn’t take it personally, it was no big deal. 

“It’s not that I don’t think we’d make a good couple. It’s just...”

Comprehension dawned 

“You like someone else, don’t you!” Merlin smiled again, trying to weasel it out of her. Merlin needled, poked her, leaned in closer until Gwen had shrugged so closely in on herself that she resembled a turtle locked out of its shell and desperately trying to get back in.

She was saved by a sudden shout.

“EMRYS!!!”

They both started and looked in the direction of the baseball field close by. It was Lancelot, the star player on the team. 

“Emrys!” He shouted again, a cheeky grin on his face. “Emrys, get my bag!”

Lance’s bag was sitting unguarded outside the fenced area. Gwen suddenly stood up and turned away, both hands held to her heart. Merlin was suddenly extremely confused, so he ran down to the fence and grabbed the bag.

“About time! You take forever!” Lance grinned cheerfully, no heat behind the words.

“Shut up! Just be happy I'm willing to do it!” Merlin shouted back, grabbing the bag and swinging it over the fence. In his haste to get back to Gwen, he threw it over a little more forcefully than he had originally intended. Lance struggled to grab it and staggered under the weight.

By the time Merlin turned back around, he was just in time to see Gwen running away. He went back to the bench and grabbed his things hastily, running after her.

“Gwen!”

She was standing on the opposite side of the school, her hands still clutching at her chest, her face a deep shade of burgundy. She looked positively mortified.

“Merlin, I’m sorry! I panicked. See, I was just about to tell you something about Lance....the thing is, it’s just...I like him!”

“Lance?” Merlin said, his head not completely on yet. He seemed to have missed something vital, but now that Gwen mentioned it, it did seem like they would be an OK match.

“Yeah, you see, I got this love letter from another guy, but I don’t know what to do because I can’t stop myself from liking Lance. He’s just so perfect! So nice, friendly, charismatic...”

She seemed to be getting lost in her own words. Merlin was suddenly really excited for her.

“But Gwen, that’s great! All you have to do is turn down that other guy and ask Lance out. He’ll surely come round.”

“Easier said than done!” Gwen scoffed, her hands finally coming down to her sides. “There’s no way I could just tell him! And by now he probably knows, the way I just reacted!” 

“There’s no way he knows! He’s way too dense,” Merlin laughed, trying to add some levity.

“And plus, I don’t think he feels that way about me. Not when he so clearly has feeling for...”

She stopped and looked at Merlin funny. But just as Merlin was about to respond, he realized something.

“My book!” he said, opening his bag. Nope, wasn’t in there. “I left my book behind! At the bench! I’m sorry Gwen, I have to go back.”

“No! It’s fine, go, hurry! Before someone finds it!”

Merlin rushed back to the school as quick as he could. It wasn’t long before he returned to the bench, but then he stopped short.

Someone was sitting on the bench.

 _Shoot._ Merlin thought. _Now I’m going to have to confront this dude and see if he’s seen my book._

No problem. He would go up to the guy and ask. No big deal. Not at all.

Merlin went down the short flight of steps to the bench and rounded the corner. He was about to ask the man if he had seen a book, when suddenly he realize that the man was, in fact, _holding his book._

A blonde-haired, gorgeous man was holding his book.

Merlin’s mouth had gone dry. He had lost the ability to speak. He had lost the ability to form words, let alone sentences. 

He managed to stutter out:

“That...book...”

“Oh, is this yours?” he said, his voice quiet and neutral. Too neutral. His innocence was obviously faked.

“Yes!” Merlin basically squeaked, his heart thudding.

Suddenly, he stood up and walked towards Merlin. Dropping the book in his hands, he simply said:

“Here you go, Merlin Emrys.”

Merlin blinked. “How do you know my name?”

“Guess!” he said, and as he said it, his face morphed into something sinisterly sarcastic, a face of utter mockery and, well, prickishness. 

Of course, Merlin only had the eloquence to gape back at him. And then he put it together, his thoughts forming like molasses. 

“The...the book card?”

“I would forget about concrete roads. Maybe keep that one out of the light of day, yeah?”

That’s all he said. And then he turned around. And walked away.

Merlin opened up the book and saw the sheet of paper with his stupid lyrics written on it.

Merlin was suddenly furious.

“YOU READ IT?”

The blonde boy was already walking out of sight, but before he left, Merlin caught a glimpse of the smirk firmly planted on his face.

Merlin could hardly contain his anger. He stalked home, every step earth-jarring.

“Prat! What a fucking prat! Dollop headed idiot. Who does that? Who goes around reading other peoples’ property? Why in the world would he even open the book? Because he’s the biggest prat to ever walk the earth!” A steady stream of insults made its way out of Merlin’s mouth all the way home.

He stood in front of his refrigerator and gulped down some iced tea, straight from the pitcher. All his anger (and the heat) made him thirsty as hell. The words of the blonde prattish idiot kept running through his head....

_I would forget about concrete roads. Maybe keep that one out of the light of day, yeah?_

“PRAT!”


	2. The Wizard of the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin follows a cat to a destination that can only be described as destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! This is my very first fic, and it's a bit ambitious (and kooky) but I'm really excited for it and I hope to have it done by the end of this week, so keep reading! Also, feel free to check out my tumblr (same URL as here). Stay tuned for more, and happy reading.  
> As usual, these stories are still not mine; I am merely sewing them together to create something new.

The long summer days were beginning to grow shorter.

Still, Merlin read on voraciously. He wasn’t much of an outdoorsman; in fact, his delicate skin had barely been exposed to more than a few minutes sunshine at a time all summer.

After his encounter with the Prat of Epic Proportions, he did the only thing that seemed logical and comforting: he read the book from Mr. Gaius for the rest of the afternoon.

A little voice kept nagging him at the very back of his head, though, constantly whispering the same message: “You must study for your exams. You will fail otherwise. You must stop reading these pleasurable, beautiful, intricately woven tales. You must listen to your parents and your brother and follow the example of Gwen, who is actually trying and is not so apathetic about school…”

On and on. Merlin ignored it; studiously ignored it, as a matter of fact. It sounded way too much like Will; in fact, some days, the voice and Will would have replica messages for Merlin, to the point where he had to remind himself that they were separate entities. In the end, he always came back to the conclusion that reading seemed to be the only thing he was good at. He read for the rest of the day, figuring he owed it to Mr. Gaius for letting him into the library to get the book in the first place.

Even so, there was still something dreadfully unsettling about the day. Merlin felt bad for being late for Gwen, and for the mishap with Lance, whatever that had been; and then there had been the Royal Arse who had ruined his last fragments of calm completely. The book he read had been satisfyingly heartbreaking, yet even that small piece of happiness was soured by the real Will, who had pestered Merlin to no end about his lifestyle choices.

“You don’t seem to care about anything! How can you just sit around all day? You haven’t even put away your dishes from breakfast, and dinner still needs to be put together before mum and dad get home.”

His voice echoed around in Merlin’s head and he couldn’t seem to brush it off as brotherly irritation anymore. The proximity to school was starting to get to him, that was it.

It didn’t seem to impede his reading for the rest of the night, though. He listened to his parents talking to his brother only a room away and avoided participating.

 

The next morning was much the same as the morning before.

A loud humming noise woke Merlin today, at first distant, but soon enough coming very much closer. 

Will. Vacuum. Noise.

Merlin really couldn’t process what was going on. He just moaned and curled into a tight ball, putting his pillow over his head. There was no stopping the man from being as irritating as physically possible every single day.

Suddenly, Merlin was exposed to the world when his blanket was quickly and viciously torn from his bed.

“AHHHHH!”

“Wake up, you pesky bum,” Will shouted over the sound of the vacuum. “Get up!”

Always the same grogginess. Merlin could feel it today, the late night reading session making his eyes feel heavy and his head fuzzy. It was like having a hangover without ever having been drunk.

He staggered from the room, mostly just in an attempt to get as far away from an incensed and vacuuming Will as possible. As he brushed his teeth, Merlin contemplated what the meaning of being truly lazy. Was he really a bum? Was reading really making him into the world’s greatest lay about? He never viewed reading negatively; it always seemed like the healthiest thing in the world. It seemed wrong to call it anything else. 

No, he decided; it would be better to keep on going this way. There was his goal of twenty books to accomplish, and great stories to be read. And school would soon rob him of his spirit anyway, so he might as well enjoy it while he had it.

_Arthur Pendragon._

Merlin mused over the name as he lazily chewed his breakfast. Arthur Pendragon had read all the same books he had, or at least he had attempted to by taking them out of the library. Merlin had a gut feeling that Arthur had finished every single one. He felt almost as though he and Arthur were already friends. At the very least, it seemed like they would make excellent friends if the opportunity came about. 

“Merlin!” His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the reappearance of Will. “You need to take dad his lunch at the library.”

“ME?” Merlin replied indignantly. It seemed very much a major shift of plans; today was supposed to be a repeat of yesterday’s activities, particularly the reading part.

“Yeah, you.” Will snapped. “Or instead, you could do the laundry and wash the dishes and get dinner ready and finish the vacuuming and wash the windows and clean the den and…”

“Ok, ok, no, I’ll take him his lunch.” Merlin replied hastily, cleaning up his dishes and grabbing the prepared box.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Will muttered.

The sun was shining brilliantly outside again. It seemed to be perpetually shining these days, and Merlin looked at the shade-spotted streets with affection. It was hard to be brought down by grades and impending schoolwork when the ethereal brilliance of the summer day seemed to beg him to be transported into a mindset of contentment and bliss.

Merlin headed for the train station. The library wasn’t exactly near, but it wasn’t too far, either; just a train ride and a bit of walking. The city looked absolutely gorgeous today anyway, if a bit hazy due to the daunting heat.

He never did get over the feeling of being on the train when it first started moving. He still felt a bit of a rush of exhilaration, especially when standing. He loved this time of day, too; the train was practically empty because it was only 10:30am and the lunch rush hadn’t begun yet. 

As he stood there gazing dreamily out the window, though, something caught his eye in his peripheral vision: a flash of grey. He looked down and discovered its source.

There was a stray cat sat on the train seat next to him.

He hadn’t noticed it when first climbing aboard, but now that he really looked, he wondered how he could have missed it. It was a stocky thing. Quite large, in fact. It lay very still except for its tail, which brushed back and forth lazily. It looked pretty sedated.

Merlin grinned and sat down gingerly next to the beast. It did not flinch away, but instead steadily ignored Merlin.

“Hey, big guy,” he said gently. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to touch it, even thought it looked extraordinarily fluffy and not very menacing.

The cat finally turned to look at Merlin, and Merlin couldn’t help but catch his breath when the cat met his eyes. It looked intelligent, sarcastic, even; in fact, it looked royally pissed off.

With that, it huffily (at least it seemed huffy to Merlin) got up and jumped to a higher perch on the back of the seat, its face turned away from Merlin. 

Merlin burst out laughing.

“You grumpy old thing! Don’t like talking to strangers, I see. No worries, I take no offense, although I’m sure you intended it.”

Just then, the train slowed to a stop, and the cat instinctively got up and walked surprisingly quickly towards the opening doors. 

Merlin jumped up, clutching his dad’s lunch. There was no way he was letting this opportunity pass; he had plenty of time. Without another thought, he followed the bulky grey shape through the slightly-crowded train station. 

He ended up following it much further than he originally intended.

It wound around moving people and across busy streets with such seeming ease that Merlin suddenly found himself envying it quite a lot. He himself had always been rather clumsy, and certainly ended up in harm’s way more than once a day. This cat, though, was nimble and lithe, made of some kind of liquid poise that allowed it to do whatever the fuck it wanted to and get away with it.

Merlin followed it with great perseverance. He found himself in a remote part of the city, surrounded by unfamiliar buildings and feeling all the more excited about it for that reason. This was a real adventure, and so that made it all the more upsetting when he couldn’t track the cat any further. It disappeared from sight completely. He started to turn back and figure out where the hell he was when he again caught sight of the cat from a distance. It was climbing a stair rail with ease not some distance off.

“Aw yeah!” He shouted, fist pumping the air before he could think better of it. 

This time, the cat took a slightly less straightforward route. It jumped over fences and wound around tight corners. It went under “no entry” signs, giving absolutely no fucks. Merlin followed relentlessly, only feeling a slight foreboding when he had to literally climb a tall wall and throw his father’s lunch over it with him. 

Soon, he was climbing a steep hill. He was in a narrow alley between two tall buildings, and the ground was littered with old coke cans and trash bags. He emerged at the top of the hill with a gusty breath and was stunned by the absolute brilliance of the sun as compared to the dark shade of the alley.

And the cat was no where to be seen.

But Merlin wasn’t focusing on the cat anymore. He was in a very nice neighborhood, surrounded by imposing houses and expensive cars. The streets were empty at this hour, all its occupants doubtlessly at work making the money that supported all this. Merlin had never been anywhere so lush and grand; it felt wrong, like he was somehow sullying the ground, and he almost worried that he would be arrested on the spot for trespassing. 

Still, curiosity got the best of him and he began wandering the streets. It was quite gorgeous: the whole neighborhood was situated at the top of a large hill (probably the one he had just climbed) and overlooked the city below. Every lawn (yes, there were lawns here) was verdantly green, and every fence adorned with expensive-looking metal decorations. 

The distant barking of a dog suddenly interrupted the stillness. Merlin followed the sound and saw a sight to behold.

There sat the fat, grey cat, perched precariously on the middle part of an ornate gate. The gate was just high enough so that the cat could sit on the top and wag its tail beneath, just out of reach of a ferocious dog that was jumping and barking beneath. 

“You big bully! You coward!” Merlin said, shaking his head at what looked to be a smug expression on the cat’s face. Merlin was inexplicably reminded of the Enormous Git of Prattish Disposition from the other day, and he clenched his fists a little harder around his father’s lunch bag just at the thought.

The cat seemed incredibly bored all of a sudden. It stood up on top of the narrow gate and carefully picked its way to the other side of the fence, where it hopped down and strutted away, the incensed dog barking and ramming itself against the fence all the while.

Merlin walked after the cat, somewhat more hesitant now. He felt a little sour towards it now, but he still wanted to finish the adventure. 

The cat walked with some speed down several roads, until it came to a building with an open door. It disappeared inside, and Merlin suddenly stopped walking to take note of what he was looking at.

The building was a particularly large and stately house with green trim and lacy curtains in the windows. It was decked out in bright red gardenias in the window boxes and seemed to emanate a sense of loving, tender care, as though its owner wanted it to look as beautiful and charming as possible. The most curious thing, though, was a gold pig that stood right outside the door and stared blankly at the street. It was very regal, and seemed like a very good sign. Before he was quire certain of what he was doing, Merlin crept up to the door and timidly stepped in.

He found himself in an elegant and quaint little antique shop. The place was full of things; everywhere he looked, Merlin caught sight of new wonders, splashes of different colors and patterns catching his eye. An intricately designed carousal pony stood in one corner, and beautiful little trinkets and decorations were placed everywhere around the room. 

In the very center of the room stood a table covered in a lace tablecloth. On the table sat a little statuette of a cat wearing a suit and holding a top hat and cane. It was the most dapper thing Merlin had ever seen, and its eyes were absolutely huge, and green. 

As he stared at it, a thought occurred to him.

“Are you the cat from before? Are you my fat friend? Have you transformed?”

As if in answer, the cat seemed to blink. 

Merlin drew back in shock and ended up knocking into another table, rattling all the little china pieces on it.

“The cat—it—did it…”

Before he could articulate what had just happened, a man suddenly appeared from the opposite side of the shop. He was elderly, but wiry and friendly-looking. Merlin started blushing furiously as he fully comprehended what he must look like, snooping around the shop like a fucking burglar or something….

“Hello,” the man said, his voice deep and friendly. “Can I help you?”

“No,” Merlin said hastily, and then bit his lip at his own rudeness. “I mean, no thank you. I was just admiring your cat statue.”

“Ah, yes!” the man said, approaching Merlin and the table where the freaky statue sat innocently. “That’s the Baron. He’s quite friendly to strangers.”

The man had such a knowing look about him that Merlin felt an odd mixture of delight and fear.

“He’s very stunning,” Merlin replied, his heartbeat finally returning to a normal pace. “I mean, he seems to have something to say.”

Merlin honestly didn’t know what he was talking about. Must be sun stroke, he thought absently. Only some part of his mind wanted to believe something else was at work here; some secret magic that the two cats had woven into the place and that had bewitched his mind.

The man just laughed. “Yes, the Baron has many stories to tell. He knows the world well at this point. But I’ll let you keep looking around.”

The man walked out of the room. Merlin tried to look at other things, but his eyes kept straying back to the green eyes of the cat. They remained motionless.

The man soon returned with a small ladder and approached a grandfather clock that was situated against the wall to the left of the cat. It was a beautiful clock made of a deep mahogany and with a creamy white face. Merlin watched curiously as the man climbed the footstool and went to open the face of the clock.

The stool began to wobble, and before he could think twice about it, Merlin dashed over to steady it beneath the man.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, smiling slightly. “Would you like to see my masterpiece? I’ve been working on this clock for two years now, and you’ve come on the right day. I’m about to see if it works.”

Merlin dimpled in pleasure. “I’d love to see it.”

“Hopefully it works. It’s been waiting to go back to its home in a castle far away from its humble stay here. I hope to see it back in use. It tells a story, so watch carefully.”

Merlin watched intently. After winding it, the man set the clock to strike 12, and then shut the door and waited.

When it did, a little melody began to play and a large door just beneath the clock face opened up to reveal a miniature scene. 

“Dwarves!” Merlin laughed.

“Yes indeed! Good to see a young person informed about fairy tales,” the man chuckled.

There were so many to look at that Merlin could hardly take them all in. A couple of the dwarves swung little mechanized hammers on top of miniature rocks in the action of mining. One went up and down in the background, holding a handful of precious jewels up to be admired. Another stood by a cart that held green and blue jewels. It all radiated such a lust and passion for wealth, fitting for a castle environment. 

Then the little ditty ended and the clock closed again. Instead, a circular door around the number 9 on the clock opened to reveal the face of a handsome prince, his hair blonde, his eyes blue. He was looking up with reverence, awaiting something…

“That is the prince of the land.” Said the old man quietly. “He has a sad story.”

Just then, the very top of the clock face opened and another beautiful figure appeared: a dark haired man, dressed in shining clothes of silver. He sat on a star, the moon peaking out from behind him. 

“That’s the Wizard of the Stars. The two are in love,” the man said softly, looking at the man in the stars with the same admiration that was on the blonde haired man’s face. “But the wizard only appears at the hour of midnight.”

Merlin looked breathlessly at the two firgures. They looked at each other with expressions that could only have been crafted by an artist who knew great pain, who knew the strife of forbidden love. 

“All other times he is transformed into a humble servant with no glory, and what’s more, he must serve the prince, who is unaware of his true form. They are not allowed to be together, for they live in two separate worlds. Still, the wizard serves the prince faithfully and will wait as long as necessary for them to be together, though that day may never come.

“They will probably never be lovers. Instead, they will watch each other from afar whenever the clock strikes 12 and wish to belong.”

“How beautiful…” Merlin mumbled, a hush coming over the whole room as he admired the two. Then, the top of the clock face closed shut, and the wizard was gone, leaving his prince, who disappeared shortly after.

Merlin stepped back from the clock as the old man got down off the step ladder. He glanced again at the cat, who suddenly seemed to look tragic in his eyes. This whole place suddenly seemed to be pieces of tragedy come together, and it was slowly beginning to break Merlin’s heart.

The clock gave one last resounding chime. It read 12:05.

Comprehension suddenly hit Merlin.

“Shoot! Shoot, what time is it? Is that clock right? Is it really 12:05?”

“It’s a few minutes fast,” the old man replied, looking at Merlin in confusion.

“Shoot! I have to get to the library!” he rushed to the door before stopping himself and turning back to look at the man. “Thank you so much for showing me the clock! It was beautiful, so beautiful.”

“No problem!” the old man laughed back. “I’m Kilgharrah, by the way. Feel free to stop back sometime! And go right if you want to get to the library quickly!”

Merlin shouted a quick thanks and ran all the way to the library, running on feet that seemed winged with the things he had just seen.

“Wow! I can’t believe I found that place! I can’t believe that just happened! This is really like a real story!” he shouted aloud, laughing with hysteria. 

Soon, he was running down a long staircase that led to the bottom of the hill where the library was. He had just arrived at the front steps when he heard a shout.

“Emrys!”

He turned around with a start, his huge grin fading quickly when he saw who it was.

The One Prat to Rule all Prats. The Idiotic Creep. The blonde haired beauty who had so unceremoniously read his private property. The Prat was riding a huge bicycle.

And in his hand was Merlin’s father’s lunch.

“You forgot this at the shop,” said the Prat, the smirk from the other day set firmly on his face.

“I—you—what?”

Merlin had once again lost the ability to speak. He merely took the lunch from the Prat’s outstretched hand and try to muster his bearings.

“You should stop leaving stuff behind, it’s really quite irresponsible.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Merlin cried, affronted. “And how did you know I was at the shop?”

“You eat a big lunch.” The Prat laughed, and began riding away. As he did, Merlin caught sight of the back of the bike, where on a small shelf sat the fat cat looking just as smug as the Prattish Cabbage Head driving the bike.

“You jerk!” Merlin shouted. “This isn’t even my lunch!”

The blonde prat began to sing concrete roads in response as he rode away.


	3. Storm Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school and other mishaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Keep at it, there's still a lot of story to go.

Merlin was thoroughly pissed off by the time he stood in front of his father, lunch bag dangling in his outstretched hand.

His father sensed Merlin’s cloudy mood as he stood there, stony expression giving him away.

“What’s got you down?” he asked cautiously, stepping off the sliding ladder he was standing on in front of the bookshelf and taking the lunch from Merlin’s slack grip.

“Have you ever had an experience where something brilliantly and unbelievably bloody fantastic happens and you feel on top of the world? And then everything glorious about that moment is sucked away into a black pit of despair when someone shows up and crushes every piece of your soul.”

His father looked at him blankly.

“Well, that just happened to me,” Merlin said, his eyes still fiery with rage. His father merely blinked in response.

“I can’t say that’s ever happened to me, or maybe just not in those terms,” he said, leading Merlin away from the stacks. Figures that Balinor would be so little help; Merlin followed him, dragging his feet. “So, are you going to hang around here today? Or are you headed home?”

Merlin resented the sudden shift of topic, but he answered anyway. “I’ll be looking around here and then I’ll catch lunch.”

“Do you want to eat with me?”

“Nah, I’ll eat out.”

Merlin’s father left him with a nod. 

It wasn’t easy to calm the anger coursing through his blood stream, but Merlin found that after a few minutes of wandering around the stacks he was significantly calmer. The presence of books made him feel steady, a Zen-like mood taking the place of the mortification that had come to dwell in his chest after the encounter with Mr. Prattish Prat.

He grabbed a few books from the shelves and spent the rest of the afternoon reading in a café situated next to the library. It was the best way to settle his fretting anger.

All the while, he kept his eyes open for more book cards that had been touched by Arthur Pendragon.

There were so many mysteries in his life right now. He wish he knew who Arthur Pendragon was, and he also wished he knew who the Prat really was, or at least his name. Mostly, he just wanted to know the Prat’s name because he wanted revenge: sweet, sweet revenge. 

A dreaded thought hits him with full force once again: the face of the Prat lines up in his head with Arthur Pendragon and sparks a new form of rage in his heart.

“Fuck no!” he shouts aloud, and people in the café around him jump in shock and turn to stare.

Blushing a deep crimson, he sinks down in his chair and hides behind his book.

He couldn’t stand the idea in his mind. Arthur Pendragon had to be more genteel than that loser… If he was reading what Merlin was reading, which, according to the book cards, he was, then there was no way he could be so snobbish and mean.

At least, that’s what Merlin told himself obstinately as he chewed on a little caramel cake in the corner of the café and read on.

 

Rain.

A storm had gathered around the city, enfolding it in its ugly and unkind embrace, stifling the blue sky and the sunlight. A solid mass of grey had obliterated the clear sky above, and soon, the clouds were pouring forth all their dark feelings in the form of an endless downpour.

And, to top it off, it was time to return to school.

Merlin felt as though the weather was just as disappointed as he was about the end of summer. He looked out the window bleakly as he contemplated the day ahead. He had put on the required school uniform and eaten breakfast and now had five minutes before it was time to begin the humdrum life of academia once more.

It wasn’t that he disliked school, per say; it was that he disliked schoolwork. He liked his friends, and he was excited to see Gwen on a more regular basis, and his good friends Elena and Gwaine, but otherwise, it seemed like a useless practice to him. He had learned more on his own in his own bedroom than he would ever learn in school, and the kind of knowledge he was interested in didn’t involve rote memorization or factual contextualization.

“Merlin, you almost ready?” his mother called from the other room. She happened to be leaving for grad school at the same time. 

“Yeah, coming.” He responded vaguely, his heart sad as he took one last lingering glance at his desk strewn with books that he had yet to return. He had made his goal, but he still felt forlorn at the fact that he would have to leave behind the worlds he loved for the dark one outside.

He and his mother walked down the narrow staircase together and out into the rain. Umbrellas up, they parted ways at the end of the path leading to their apartment complex.

“Good luck, sweetheart,” Hunith said, giving Merlin’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, you too, mum,” Merlin said half-heartedly. 

Merlin had mixed feelings about his mum returning to school for her post-grad degree. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to succeed; he really did. It’s just, she had always been the backbone of the family, and without her always available, it seemed like Merlin had lost a big part of his childhood. It was childish, really, and selfish, but Will made a bad replacement for a mother, there was nothing for it.

Merlin’s glum mood lifted a little when he spotted Gwen a way off.

“Gwen!” he shouted to her, running up until they were walking side by side.

“Merlin, good morning!” she said, her bright smile appearing from beneath her yellow polka dot umbrella. “Lovely weather, am I right?”

“Smashing,” he smiled back. “You excited for today?”

“Can you really expect me to answer that honestly?” she laughed. “Putting on the uniform this morning was one of the most depressing things that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yeah, right. Just think, Gwen. You’re getting your two favorite things today: school and Lance.” Merlin teased.

“Shut up. School is not my favorite thing…I just realize that I need it for my future success.”

“Sounds like you’ve been taking Mr. Gaius far too seriously,” Merlin chided. “And I can’t help but notice that you didn’t deny the Lance part,” he added slyly.

Gwen just blushed. “Alright, enough, you. Are you prepared for exams?”

Merlin’s stomach felt a little queasy even at the mention. Entrance exams were no joke, yet he had hardly studied at all, at least compared to his peers. Towards the very end of the summer, he had thought to study a tiny bit, but it didn’t seem all that important during that time.

“I could probably be more ready than I am,” he caved slightly, blushing discreetly beneath his umbrella. “I mean, I certainly didn’t go to cram school like you.”

“You don’t need it,” Gwen said kindly. “I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said hollowly. He decided it was time for a change of subject. “So, give me updates on the love letter situation. Any change? Have you responded?”

“No and no,” Gwen replied, and this time it was her turn to blush. “I didn’t want to say anything and he hasn’t persisted. I don’t know, I’m not sure—“

At that moment, Lancelot suddenly appeared from around a corner ahead of them and gave them a wave.

“Merlin, better hurry or you’ll be late!” he said blithely, seemingly ignorant of the fact that Gwen was also standing right there.

“Better hurry yourself! First day and all, you should at least try for one day,” Merlin quipped back, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah, see you in there,” Lance walked quickly ahead towards the main entrance of the school and joined a few of his baseball buddies.

Gwen looked slightly flustered, but said nothing. She and Merlin folded their umbrellas and headed inside. 

 

The exam was killer. It was the first of a few, but it still made Merlin feel quaky inside, as if his stomach had just partaken in the Olympic games. He sat back in his chair and fanned himself with a stray piece of notebook paper; it may have been dark and rainy, but the humidity in the room was unbearable, the open windows doing nothing to lighten the weight of the air pressing on all sides.

Merlin was staring idly at the rain falling outside when he heard his name.

“Merlin!” it was Lance from across the aisle. “I did so well! I think I guessed most of the time but I got the questions right, I’m certain. I don’t even need to study.”

Merlin could sense Gwen shifting around in her seat behind him, and decided to go with a more direct tactic than she had been taking thus far.

“Yeah, sure Lance,” Merlin remarked dryly, leaning forward in his seat and putting his hand on his chin. “You are a man of great wisdom, I’m sure. You know who else guesses really well? Gwen. Maybe the two of you should study together sometime.”

“Me and Gwen?” Lance seemed confused for a second, and Merlin heard Gwen’s breath hitch ever so slightly.

“Sure! You two would be a great team.”

“Merlin!” Gwen suddenly said, her voice strained. “Will you please accompany me to the hallway? Right now?”

Merlin could hardly stop himself from giggling. It was so interesting to watch their heterosexual mating dance, and he couldn’t help wonder what either party really got out of it; there was so much waiting, so much stalling. If he were to ever meet someone he truly liked, he wouldn’t hesitate nearly so much.

All the same, he followed Gwen meekly out into the hallway. 

“You asshole!” Gwen remarked under her breath. “What the hell was that? You shouldn’t have been so obvious, now he’s going to know!” 

“Cool it, Gwen, he’s too dense to know anything about it! All I did was suggest that the two of you hang out sometime. No big deal, really.” Merlin did feel a little bad, but it was the truth; it’s not like he told Lance that Gwen had the biggest crush ever on him.

“I don’t even want to hear it, Merlin Emrys,” Gwen said, blushing slightly. “God, and you had to say that I guess, too. That is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard! You know better than anyone that I never guess!” Merlin giggled a little at that. “Shut up. I’ll do this in my own way in my own time. You stay out of it!”

Merlin gave her is most apologetic, if not slightly playful, smile. “I apologize for overstepping my boundaries as gay best friend. I solemnly swear I will never do so again.”

Merlin noted triumphantly that Gwen did give a little grin at that.

“Come on, I need to go to the teacher’s lounge before lunch to ask one of the professors about something. And I’d rather not do it alone, so you’re coming with. You owe me that.”

“Fine,” Merlin grumbled, following her dutifully. “I suppose if I must.”

An idea had sprung to his mind that moment she suggested it, though. This could be the right time to ask someone about Arthur Pendragon; no time like the present.

As Gwen wandered over to their professor to ask her question, Merlin headed to the oldest staff member, Professor Monmouth, and cleared his throat.

“Yes, can I help you?” Professor Monmouth said, adjusting his glasses to get a better look at Merlin.

“Yes, sir; if you please, I was wondering if you could tell me about a certain name I heard. Mr. Gaius told me to ask around to find out if a person by this name had ever worked here.”

“Sure, sure; what’s the name?”

“Pendragon?” Merlin asked, trying not to let the word catch in his throat, and trying not to say it too loud; it seemed as though if people heard he was interested in finding out the name, they would know his intentions immediately and judge him, even though this was most definitely impossible.

“Pendragon?” Professor Monmouth practically shouted back. He was quite old, but Merlin cringed all the same, noticing with some relief that no one around seemed to notice.

“Yes, that’s the name.”

“Pendragon. Yes, I’ve heard the name before. Belonged to Uther Pendragon, used to be the head of the PTA. Yes, he worked here several years back but has since become headmaster of a post-secondary private school. His son goes here, though; hey, Monmouth, what’s the name of the Pendragon lad?”

To Merlin’s great horror and mortification, this last part was shouted to a different elderly professor who sat nearby at a small table talking to several other colleagues. He looked up at the shout, though, and his eyebrows knitted together as he thought of the name.

“Hmm, I believe it’s Arthur. Arthur Pendragon.” The other professor replied.

“Ah, thanks!” Monmouth looked back to Merlin. “That’s the one.”

Merlin felt very flustered all of a sudden. First, Arthur Pendragon went to his school, a new development in the mystery. Secondly, he realized that in this moment, he had direct access to the end of the mystery of Arthur Pendragon, and he very much did not want to find out. It was pretty ridiculous, but learning of Arthur Pendragon’s true identity from elderly teachers just seemed so incredibly lame to him; this story had such potential, and he certainly wasn’t going to waste it by doing something rash.

“Thank you so much sir! I’ll just be going now,” Merlin said rather awkwardly, practically flinging himself towards Gwen and pulling her by the arm to leave.

“Merlin! Alright, alright, we’re going! What in the world has gotten into you!”

Gwen had every right to be astonished, but Merlin had no time to answer, because just as they headed out into the hallway, Merlin saw him.

The Greatest and Most Arrogant Prat Ever to Walk the Earth.

He was walking straight toward them, a professor at his side. The hallway was just big enough for Merlin and Gwen to walk on one side and the other two to walk towards them on the other. There was no option but to walk past; Merlin would be damned if he turned around and ran like a coward.

Like the Prat would.

Gwen was even more confused when she observed Merlin’s face rapidly change from embarrassed to one of stony stubbornness. She followed him like a dog as he straightened his shoulders and walked right past the Prat, his head held high and his eyes looking straight ahead. 

Nothing happened.

The Prat walked right past him and didn’t even seem to notice Merlin’s defensiveness; in fact, he didn’t seem to notice Merlin at all. He was completely unresponsive to the tension of the moment.

Merlin couldn’t help but look over his shoulder after they passed each other. The Prat did not look back.

“Asshole!” Merlin muttered under his breath, and Gwen just stared at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

He was therefore obliged to tell her the whole story.

 

Wisely, he did not mention Arthur Pendragon’s name. 

Gwen, of course, being the quality friend she was, told everyone at lunch that Merlin had a secret fling going on with “some dude who reads a lot and is most likely a stalker. And also another dude who is a prat.”

“Ooh, Emrys, you’ve finally attracted the perfect person for you!” Gwaine laughed delightedly. Merlin shot him a withering look in response. “A creepy, book-loving mystery man! That’s rich.”

“How incredibly romantic,” Elena sighed, clasping her hands together over her heart and looking at Merlin dreamily. “You have to find him. You two will be such a power couple.”

“We’ll help you out, mate,” Gwaine said coaxingly. “Just tell me the name, I may even know him.”

“No fucking way,” Merlin responded, his mouth set in a tight line. “If you think I’m going to let you hook me up with this dude, you better get your head checked, because…ugh. Just no. You’d probably hand him a condom with my name on it or something!”

“I am affronted!” Gwaine said, hand to his chest. “I would put the condom in a book with an arrow pointing to your name! Obviously, I would stay consistent with the theme. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“The asshole type.”

“You love it.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Gwaine said with a cocky grin.

“Boys, boys…” Gwen laughed, her delight at having gotten back at Merlin for the whole Lance thing obvious on her face. Still, she showed some mercy and offered a change of subject. “I believe Merlin has a song to show us.”

“Oh yeah, Merlin, do you have the rewrite ready?” Elena said excitedly, her face lighting up.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, somewhat timidly. This was kind of a big moment; he had never written poetry to show to other people, but when Gwen had asked him to rewrite the verses of “Country Roads” for their class to sing at graduation, he couldn’t turn her down. “I mean, I tried to make it fit our class, but I make no promises.”

“Let’s have it then!” Gwen said, and Merlin handed her the sheet of paper.

Everyone huddled around it anxiously.

Merlin merely bit his lip. They were all staring intently at the words, their expressions unreadable. But then Gwen and Elena started mouthing along to the words, their expressions changing to matching looks of satisfaction.

“Merlin, this is excellent!” Elena said, her pretty curls shaking around her face as she bobbed her head up and down. “I think everyone will really like it. It certainly speaks to us as a group, moving on and all, you know. It’s sad, but inevitable.”

“You really like it?” Merlin said, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, it’s not perfect, I know…do you think you’ll be able to sing it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Gwen said, also smiling fondly at Merlin. “You’ve done really well! Thank you so much.”

“Good job, Emrys,” Gwaine even added, his eyes alight with a mixture of admiration and teasing pride.

“No big deal, I liked doing it…” Merlin murmured, feeling a bit self conscious what with everyone’s attention turned towards him like this, a new kind of fondness appearing on all of their faces.

He shook his head and picked up his lunch tray. 

“We best be off, next period starts pretty soon.”

He couldn’t help but smile at having something work out in his favor, though.

 

School finally over for the day, Merlin found the world outside had transformed back to clear skies and warm sunlight once again. Cicadas buzzed in the trees and birds sang loudly, all together making Merlin feel like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders if only for a moment.

Gwen had asked him if he wanted to watch the chorus perform his lyrics, but he had a different, more important task: return to the shop and see if the clock was still there. 

Ever since his prior visit, he hadn’t been able to get the image of the two lovers out of his mind, or that of the green-eyed Baron. He wanted to know more about them all, because a story had taken root in his mind and he couldn’t get it to leave him alone; the only thing for it was to collect more imagery and ideas by seeing the intricate craftsmanship in the shop again.

A very tiny, infinitesimal part of his brain wanted to see the Prat again, too. Well, no, not see him, but have an opportunity to analyze how he was connected to the shop. This was purely curiosity and nothing more. 

As he walked there, Merlin silently admonished himself for even thinking that thought. There was no way he would be happy to see the blonde haired bloke again. Every other interaction had been tainted with Merlin’s inability to gather his wits long enough or quickly enough to sass the dude right back in a way that would make Will proud. No, Merlin realized with some irritation that the problem had always been his own inability to speak.

…But still. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t think that the blonde was incredibly hot. Which was really the worst part about it, really.

Finally, Merlin made it to the top of the hill that led to the other-worldly neighborhood. He approached the whole place with caution. After all, the Prat could be lurking anywhere around here.

As he came to the house-shop, though, he anxiously noticed that it looked very much not-open. The curtains were all shut, the lights appeared to be out inside, and the door was shut. The pig statue was also very noticeably missing.

“Shoot,” he muttered, walking up to the front door anyway. There was a small sign next to it that had the hours on it, and according to what was printed, the shop should have been open. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon or so, after all. The name of the shop was printed next to hours, something that interested Merlin:

Great Dragon Antiques  
Kilgarrah, proprietor 

“Kilgharrah…” Merlin muttered softly, recalling that the old man had mentioned it yesterday. “Must be the name of the Prat, too. They must be related, if the Prat knew that I had left the lunch behind…”

Merlin sighed and tried to get a glimpse of the inside from the window. It was indeed quite dark inside, but sunlight from the back windows streamed in, making the dust motes in the air stand out and dance around. Merlin cupped his hands around his face to get a better view. He noticed with some dismay that the table in the middle of the room was quite empty, no Baron visible in the fading light.

“Oh no…” he said, his breath fogging the glass pane a little. “Is he gone? Did the Baron get sold?”

Before he could finish this worrisome thought, Merlin heard a bicycle squeak right behind him.

He jumped and turned away from the window, almost destroying a gardenia in the process. 

As he looked around, though, he saw the bicyclist in question was a lady, and she was already peddling innocently away.

“God, I need to get out of here,” he said, his nerves still on edge. As much as he had played with the idea of seeing the Prat in his mind, he really had not counted on it being remotely a possibility.

He hurried away from the house and headed home.

 

Merlin, playing the role of dutiful student, decided to study that night for the next exam. The whole process of studying exhausted him even just hypothetically, but he really needed the extra time unless he pulled a Lance and guessed. The chances of that working out for him were not nearly so promising as compared to Lance’s confidence.

Will’s voice suddenly called to him from the other room.

“Merlin! You have a telephone call! It’s Gwen!”

“Coming!”

“Merlin! Now!”

Merlin hurried into the other room before Will could do something dumb or vindictive, like hang up the phone before he got there.

“Gwen? Hello?”

“Merlin, I need you to speak with you.” There was something off about her voice. “I’m having a crisis.”

“What’s going on? Hold it, I’ll head over right now.”

“Let’s meet halfway.”

“Ok, I’m on my way.”

Merlin hung up the phone and bit his lip in concern. Gwen would usually save whatever she had to say for the next day if it were a school night; this had to be pretty serious.

“I’m going to meet Gwen,” Merlin said to Will, grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out before Will could throw in his two cents.

When he saw Gwen, Merlin instantly knew that something bad had happened. She was twisting her hands together and seemed fidgety. 

“Merlin! Thank goodness you’re hear, I need to tell you what happened.”

“Gwen, what’s going on? Are you ok?” Merlin said, grabbing her hands.

“Yes, no, I’m fine,” she said, her smile weak. “It’s just, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to tell you before tomorrow, I’m sorry to interrupt your night.”

That was just like Gwen. She never wanted to seem needy, one of the things Merlin simultaneously admired and resented about her. Sometimes she crossed the line from considerate to reserved, hurting Merlin’s feelings a bit at her seeming lack of trust. 

“What happened?”

“This afternoon,” Gwen took a breath. “Lance talked to me.”

Merlin waited to celebrate. “What did he say?”

“He came to talk to me on behalf of the other guy, the one who had sent me the love letter.”

“What?” Merlin was slightly taken aback—was Lance really that dense? Did he not realize that Gwen only had the biggest crush on him ever? “What did he say?”

“He said that the other guy wanted an answer. That he was really interested in me, and that Lance could vouch for him as a good guy…that we would make a good couple.” Gwen’s lip started to tremble a little. It was only now that Merlin realized the depth of her crush on Lance.

“What an idiot!” Merlin practically shouted, releasing Gwen’s hand so he could smack his own forehead. “I can’t believe him! What did you say?”

“I told him I wasn’t interested…that I was in love with someone else.”

There was that word: love. Yes, Gwen seemed to be truly besotted, and Merlin didn’t exactly know what to say. 

“That’s not all.” She continued. “I…well…I kind of slapped him.”

Merlin had to force himself not to chortle at that. “You did not!”

“Yeah, I did,” only Gwen’s face didn’t show any sign of amusement. “I feel really bad about it. He was being really very kind, all things considered, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was kind of a split-second decision on my part.”

“I would have done the same,” Merlin said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Although, with the face of the Prat in his mind, he couldn’t help but think that it was definitely a semi-viable option. “What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t think I can go to school tomorrow! I can’t bear to see him in class. Will you think very badly of me?” Gwen asked, her face the epitome of misery. Merlin patted her shoulder.

“No, but you do know you’ll miss an exam, right? I just think that you may want to reconsider. It can’t be that bad, right?” Merlin was kind of shocked that Gwen would even consider it, if he were being honest.

“I know. I just can’t take it! All the stress with exams, and now this on top of it all!” Gwen’s head collapsed into her hands. “I can’t see him after that, not yet.”

“Alright, but will you be ok? I can stop by after school if you want.” Merlin says, trying to be comforting. 

“No, I’ll be fine. Good luck,” Gwen murmurs. “I’m going to go home.”

Merlin gave her a quick hug. “Hang in there. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.” With one last forlorn look, she headed back to her house.

Merlin felt really bad for her, but what was there to do? Lance was obviously the thickest guy ever to walk the earth, and even though it wasn’t his fault for being so thick, Merlin couldn’t help but be pissed off at him for hurting Gwen.

The next day at school, things got significantly worse.


	4. Kaleidoscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which confessions are made and talking occurs.

Merlin’s second exam was extremely challenging. It didn’t help that he was distracted by the gaping hole where Gwen usually sat. And to add to that, Lance kept shooting him concerned glances, like he knew something was terribly wrong.

He had no right to be so idiotic. Merlin’s mood was completely ruined.

Halfway through the exam, Lance caught Merlin’s eye, and he couldn’t help himself. Merlin found himself glaring at Lance and mouthing to him:

“ _Asshole._ ”

He knew he shouldn’t do it. Gwen would probably be displeased if she knew, and in a way, Merlin felt like he was encouraging Lance’s idiocy more than anything else.

“ _What did I do?_ ” Lance mouthed back, his shoulders tensing in defensiveness. Merlin merely scowled back and returned to his exam.

 

Really, he should have seen it coming.

By the end of the school day, Merlin felt like a champion. The exam had been hard, Gwen’s absence had worried him to no end, and his other friends all seemed really down. Really, all he wanted to do was go visit the shop again (he was really quite desperate now to see if the Baron had returned, and hopefully catch a glimpse of the clock again) and then go home to read or sleep or eat or something, something completely unrelated to school.

But no. That would have been too simple.

Instead, as he walked out of school, he heard his voice.

“Merlin! Wait up!”

Lance.

_Fuck._

Merlin turned warily, trying to keep his face neutral despite his annoyance.

“What do you want Lance?” he tried not to sound too short, but he really couldn’t help it.

“Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you…about Gwen, and stuff.” Lance seemed uncannily flustered, something that was definitely out of character for him; that, and he rarely talked to Merlin one-on-one like this, other than to maybe tease him briefly. The man always seemed so put together and perfectly confident, as well as slightly elusive. 

Merlin bit his lip. He had a _very_ bad feeling about this but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Alright, I guess I have a minute.”

There was a small forested area nearby the school, so they went there for a little privacy, making small talk about the latest exam. Merlin felt a distinct anxiety rising in his chest as they walked. It felt like this was probably the worst idea ever, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Merlin,” Lance suddenly said, his voice shifting from polite to something more intense. “I’m really sorry about what happened with Gwen. I don’t understand why she was so upset. I mean, I was just the messenger…”

Merlin’s eyebrows knit together. “Isn’t it obvious to you? I know you baseball guys are dense, but still…She wasn’t upset about the message! She was upset because you were the one who gave the message! God, you should have realized…” 

“That me being the one to talk to her was a problem? Why, though? Merlin, I really didn’t mean to hurt her…”

“Can’t you see!” Merlin finally shouted, his patience breaking. “She’s in love with you! She didn’t want to hear a message from another guy from _you_! Ugh, how could you not know…”

“What!?” Lance shouted back, his cheeks turning bright red. “How was I supposed to know that? I don’t feel that way about Gwen. She’s really lovely, but Merlin…I…”

Lance paused, his breathing getting heavier. “I’m in love with you.”

It was Merlin’s turn to blush, a deep red. He was not expecting that. He definitely was not expecting that.

Lance came closer, and Merlin suddenly had the urge to run.

“See, I’ve known for some time now that I’m not…” Lance paused. “That I’m not interested in only girls. At least, I know I’m interested in you.”

Merlin choked on his own words. “Don’t joke around, I don’t think I can take anymore drama…”

“I’m not joking!” Lance said, with utter earnestness. Lancelot. The class hero. The baseball jock. The definitely heterosexual, _don’t-even-bother-Merlin_ , friendzone all the way, male. 

Holy shit.

Merlin suddenly saw a whole new world open before him: one in which he was dating this amazing guy standing before him, one in which he and Gwen would no longer be friends, but he would also have a heartthrob for a boyfriend, one in which Arthur Pendragon no longer existed or mattered, and the Prat could be forever forgotten as an unhappy (albeit attractive) memory. 

And Merlin knew, without a doubt, that he wanted no part of it.

It wasn’t Lance’s fault. Lance was really gorgeous, and he seemed nice enough when he wasn’t breaking Gwen’s heart; considerate, even. But Merlin didn’t want his story to go this way. He didn’t want to let go of Arthur Pendragon, which was ridiculous, but also somehow so right to him, so incredibly right.

He looked up at Lance and saw such hope in his eyes, a look of absolute vulnerability, as if he had been planning and thinking about this moment for a long time. It made Merlin feel doubly guilty that he had never thought about it even once, had never even taken their teasing banter as possibly flirting, had completely missed all the signs…

“Lance, I’m sorry…” he began, swallowing hard and looking away from Lance’s eyes. “I just don’t feel that way about you. I consider you a friend.”

Merlin suddenly very much felt like crying. He had never had to let anyone down like this, and it seemed so wrong in so many ways. He almost said yes to Lance just to avoid the whole awful process.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Merlin choked out, trying to hurry past Lance. 

“Wait.” Lance said, grabbing Merlin’s arm. “Just tell me…is it because there’s another guy? Do you have a boyfriend?” The cicadas up above them in the trees suddenly seemed oppressively loud, and yet, so distant. There was so much tension that Merlin could hardly fathom how he didn’t break down and accept Lance’s offer based on pressure alone.

The question was so quiet, so simple, and yet there was so much longing in his tone. 

“No,” Merlin whispered, feeling like it was a lie even though clearly it was not. “It’s just…like I said. I think of you as a friend. And I think I always will.”

Lance held on to his arm still, squeezing rather hard. Finally, he released him and Merlin practically ran from the spot.

He felt like a bastard but now, more than ever, Merlin needed to escape this world and its awfulness; he needed to numb the pain away as quickly as possible.

 

Merlin ran most of the way to the _Great Dragon_. His brain was full of conflicting emotions, mostly mortification. 

Yeah, a great part of it was mortification. 

Had he done the right thing? That was a question that he almost couldn’t afford to ask. It was impossible to say; when it came to his friendship with Gwen, he certainly had done the most charitable thing, and he prayed to God that she would never find out about the whole ordeal.

Emotionally, though, he felt as though maybe he had done exactly the opposite of the right thing. He had never had a boyfriend before, and Lance was really an amazing guy. Plus, they had pretty good chemistry, all things considered. Merlin had just always figured that Lance was a bit out of reach sexuality-wise. 

_How did I miss it?_

By the time he got to the shop, it was all he could do to keep the tears from coming down his face in unabashed rivers. He probably should have just gone home to get it all out of his system. But home promised a whole slew of problems, chiefly that he would be focused on all the people he couldn’t tell about his problems. Gwen was off-limits, Will was not exactly the best confidante (too bossy, too unforgiving), and his parents…well, he didn’t even really consider them residents at his home anymore, for the amount of attention they paid him.

So the shop it had been. As he approached the door, though, he instantly knew that this was the worst idea he had ever had.

The last fragment of his heart broke when he saw it was closed. 

The only thing that redeemed the situation was that, upon closer inspection, Merlin saw his fat cat sitting outside the shop.

Even though he still felt slightly bitter at its traitorous action of joining forces with the Prat, he still had to urge to sit next to it. First, though, he tried the door handle just to make sure it wouldn’t open.

It didn’t.

He plopped down next to the cat. The cat didn’t move, but continued to bask in the late afternoon sunlight, its tail swishing quietly. Merlin didn’t touch it, afraid it would run away, but instead, began to speak to it.

“I thought you were so rude when I first met you,” he said quietly. “But you and I, we’re much the same, aren’t we? I suppose I was the dense one all along…” Merlin shook his head at the irony. “Poor Lance. Here I am, thinking that I’ve solved every mystery; that I’m the smartest I can be, when everything I’ve learned has come from trite fairy tales and sparkling, whimsical, bull shit. 

“I don’t really even enjoy reading that much anymore. I used to think it was the only thing I’d ever want to do, when I was a kid. It was the only way to feel connected to any other part of the world, even though most of the time, I was working on escaping the world. God, I’ve been so stupid. I can’t even believe how naïve I am, it makes me sick.”

Merlin put his head in his hands, trying hard not to cry. To distract himself, he began to pet the cat absently with one hand, focusing on the soft fur and not the raging self-loathing waging war with his mind.

The cat purred beneath his long fingers, scooting up closer to him and making a racket with all its purring. Merlin smiled a bit fondly at it. 

He didn’t even notice when a biker came up the hill and stopped in front of the shop.

“Emrys?”

Merlin’s breath hitched and his whole body stilled at the sound. The voice was soft, quizzical, and although Merlin recognized the sound, he hardly could match it with the tone. He looked up tentatively, trying not to give away the fact that he was feeling completely miserable.

The prat just looked at him, curiously.

Merlin took a deep breath and stopped petting the cat, who immediately looked irritated at the lack of rubbing.

“So, Moon seems to like you. Odd, he doesn’t usually like anyone…” the prat started talking, and Merlin was surprised at how friendly and warm he sounded. There was something strangely soothing about it.

“Moon? Is that his name?” Merlin found himself saying.

The prat was smiling, and God, he was gorgeous. Merlin tried not to ogle him, but had a feeling he was failing miserably. In fact, for a moment, “prat” seemed like the wrong title for the man; he deserved something more fitting. He was like a totally different person than the one Merlin had seen during their other encounters.

“Yeah. At least, that’s what I call him. He’s not really my cat, he just hangs around here. I’ve heard him called ‘Ball’ elsewhere. He does have a very…um…rotund shape, I suppose.”

Merlin started chuckling despite himself. “He does. I was surprised to see how graceful he actually is despite his porkiness.” He gave the cat a little prod with his finger, yet Moon seemed unaffected by his criticism. Another admirable trait.

As the conversation began to dwindle, Merlin suddenly became very aware of how weird it was for him to be sitting outside the shop at this hour, alone with the cat. He was creeping himself out a little just thinking of it, and he could hardly imagine what the prat was thinking of him. He stood up quickly.

“Erm—sorry, I just stopped by to check on the shop when I saw it was closed. Is the owner all right? I worried because he wasn’t here a few days ago either.”

Now he sounded really stalkerish, although the prat really couldn’t be too offended seeing as _he_ was the one who had read Merlin’s book and returned the lunch, etc.

“Oh yeah, Grandfather’s fine!” the prat said, dismounting the bike in a swift motion that rivaled the grace of Moon. Although Merlin wasn’t watching, really, he wasn’t. “He just has weird hours because everyone who comes up here is pretty familiar with him. He really should specify that he isn’t around a lot...”

“No problem, I just wanted to check.” Merlin bit his lip. The sun was beginning to make its descent, and he probably should just walk away, but something was keeping him there. “I did wonder about the Baron, though. Did he sell it?” Where that had come from, Merlin couldn’t say precisely. Probably just blatant curiosity, nothing more.

Merlin didn’t feel like explaining that he had looked in the window to see if the Baron had been there. That would be a bridge too far.

The prat laughed. “Nah, Grandfather’d never sell Baron. He’s pretty much a fixture here.” Then, “Would you like to come in and see him?”

Merlin was taken aback for a second, but before he was even conscious of it, he had spluttered out a confused (but enthusiastic) “yes!”

The prat smiled and waved him over to a small gate next to the house. Apparently, they were not going to use the front door.

Merlin was unsure as to what was behind the gate, but once he tentatively approached the gate, the sight that met him was one of the most astounding he’d ever seen.

The gate did not lead to a backyard. No, it led to a staircase, an incredibly steep staircase, that went down to a small deck beneath. The whole arrangement seemed to be dangling on the edge of the world; the narrow stair revealed an equally narrow sliver of sky and city below, separated in the middle by a thatched roof.

Below that thatched roof, the prat stood waiting for Merlin to follow.

He caught his breath and carefully picked his way down the steps. When he got to the bottom, he felt like he was literally on top of the world. There, in front of him, the city stretched out, bathed in the vibrant red and orange glow of the setting sun. He grabbed the rail to steady himself, the world unreal in his eyes.

“Afraid of heights?”

Merlin could hardly process the voice beside him, but he turned to the prat, grin wide.

“No, I just can’t believe a place like this exists! This is probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,”

The other man seemed a bit shocked at Merlin’s enthusiasm, but not displeased; he looked at Merlin in a different way than he had before, like he was admiring Merlin’s bluntness. 

Really, Merlin was holding back. What he felt like doing was running around and dancing, maybe even shouting, because _God_ , how could anyone see this and not just wonder at the world?

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Merlin turned silently from the rail and followed. They entered a basement-type room, furnished with shelves and a large countertop on one side. The most noticeable thing, though, were the violins hanging from the ceiling, four beautiful stringed instruments in a row.

Merlin took it all in with huge, round eyes, but followed quietly upstairs all the same.

Upstairs, the first thing that caught his attention was the gaping hole where the clock used to be. He felt the crushing weight of sorrow hit him as he realized that he wouldn’t be able to see the prince and his lover again.

“Ah, you noticed the clock is gone?” the prat said before Merlin could say anything about it, taking in Merlin’s disappointment. “Yeah, Grandfather delivered it the day you forgot your lunch. I’m fairly sure that you were the only person who got to see it before he took it away.”

“It wasn’t my lunch, for the record…” Merlin grumbled, his bad mood making him feel oddly defensive.

“I know, you girl,” the prat smiled, and for some reason, Merlin found himself smiling back. “Now come here, I need to show you something.” He said it with such a voice of authority that Merlin couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Alright, your highness,” Merlin muttered quietly. 

“I heard that.” _Not quietly enough, apparently…_

“Well, you are rather demanding, and considering that I don’t have to be here right now, I would think you would show some good manners, be a considerate host and all.”

“You’re the one who was just hanging about outside!”

“I was petting the cat! You saw how much he enjoyed my company, unlike some people.”

“This is important, and very much a time-sensitive thing, so if you’d just get over here than that would make everything a lot easier.”

Merlin followed him into the back room where warm sunlight streamed through a window onto a table. Upon the table sat the famous Baron, his regality just as intense as the other time Merlin had seen him.

“The Baron!” Merlin cooed, strangely happy to see that at least some remnant of his previous visit was left. 

“Sit.” The prat pointed to a seat right in front of the table with a commanding nod.

Merlin scowled slightly but complied. “Now what?” he said, mock-impatience in his tone. 

The prat started fiddling with the Baron, as though he was setting him up for something. “I have to get the angle right…ah, there it is! Now look in the eyes.”

Merlin gave the prat a dubious look. He merely nodded his head in the direction of the Baron, so Merlin leaned in and looked.

The deep green eyes that had seemed to blink last time he saw them took on a new sheen; they were bright, iridescent and practically radiant. They shined in a multitude of colors, mesmerizing in the way a kaleidoscope is; yet, they also seemed to have a certain look to them, like the Baron was trying to communicate somehow, to tell a story with a look…

At first, Merlin looked in awe, but then he became very aware of his posture. He was leaning in to look at the Baron, but meanwhile, the other man was very close to him, bent at the waist to be at Merlin’s level. His big hands were keeping the cat statue in place, and his face was level with Merlin’s, looking just as intently at the color, but occasionally glancing at Merlin as well.

“The color is caused by a flaw in the artist’s polishing. He must have scratched the stone with a cloth or something, but the affect is gorgeous,” the man’s voice was quiet, reverent.

They were so near each other. Merlin liked the nearness, reveled in it for a moment. The man did smell very good, and his body was warm, radiating in Merlin’s direction. A stillness came over them both, the golden sheen of the summer sunset air around them seeming to make everything thick and unreal. Merlin’s mouth was suddenly very dry and he very much wanted to touch the golden hair next to him that looked so soft and so much more golden in the light…

The sun chose this moment to dip beneath the house next door, and the intoxication ended almost as quickly as it had begun.

Merlin sat up in his seat just as the other man straightened up and let go of the statuette. He suddenly seemed very aware of Merlin’s presence, or something, because he blushed and started to back away.

“I’m going downstairs,” he said, his voice quavering. “Please come down as soon as you’re ready. Feel free to look around, or, whatever.”

And with that, he was gone. Merlin let out a breath that he hadn’t even known he was holding.


	5. Music Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finds out the identity of the mysterious prat at last.

This really had been the most emotionally stressful day, not to mention confusing.

As Merlin sat in the waning light, gathering his bearings, staring at the Baron, he felt the full force of what had _just_ happened hit him.

He had never intended on falling for the prat, of all people. God, he didn’t even know the guy’s real name. He supposed he could call him Kilgarrah; after all, the prat was related to the owner of the shop, and it was fair to assume that they would have the same name. But there was something very much not good about matching the prat’s face with Kilgarrah’s name.

Nope, not good at all.

Merlin really ought to gather the courage to just ask him, but that was hardly something he could just _do._ In the meantime, he had to somehow get his emotions down to a manageable level. Quickly.

After a few deep breaths, Merlin decided that staying upstairs any longer would seem weird. He approached the steps with some caution and then headed down before he could chicken out more than he already had. 

The first thing Merlin noticed was that only three violins hung from the ceiling. Then, as Merlin’s eyes traveled over, he saw that the prat was perched on a small stool, his head bowed over the violin in his hands as he carefully carved the end. 

The sight was only slightly intoxicating. The action of carving made the muscles in his forearm ripple beneath his skin, and the look of concentration on his face made it look like he was trying desperately to block out the world, and almost perfectly succeeding at it, had it not been for the little crease in his brow that betrayed his concern. Merlin recognized it; it reminded him of when he would read, and try to forget.

As Merlin walked down the stairs, one of the steps creaked, ruining the moment completely.

“Oh, you’re finished looking at Baron?” the other man’s voice was a bit strained, but Merlin chose not to focus too much on it.

“Yes, thank you. What are you doing?” he said, trying desperately not to be awkward.

“I build violins,” the prat suddenly seemed unsure of himself, even though what he was saying was pretty obvious. Merlin took note of it, realizing that he was now in the private domain of the prat and was becoming privy to a different side of him. “I’ve been working on this old thing for ages. There’s a class taught here and I’m in it, so whenever I have a spare moment I try to get a bit more done.”

Merlin quietly observed. He noticed that the prat had strong hands, hands that worked with precision and obviously had been in training to do so for a very long time. Little curly cues of wood fell to the ground as he carved the scroll of the violin, shaping it evenly and with artistic grace.

“Do you play at all?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah, a little.”

The prat stopped his slow carving and placed the unfinished instrument down gently. Merlin noticed that without the polished surface, the violin looked like it wasn’t an instrument at all; it resembled a broken tree branch more than anything else, all raw edges and vulnerability, with little pieces of detail here and there.

The prat got up and retrieved a violin case from the ground on the far side of the counter. He clicked the latches open and pulled it out, sitting back on the small stool.

It was totally different than the unfinished instrument. It was polished, clean, shining. It had tightly strung strings and was a bit dusty from resin. Overall, it was a beautiful instrument, and it seemed like it wanted to be played, in a weird way.

Merlin stood silently, observing the prat as he pulled out a bow and placed the violin on his shoulder. There was a moment of silence before the prat placed his fingers lightly on the frets and with a smirk, began to play.

The music was loud, intense, breathtaking—and short. Still, Merlin could feel the reverberations of the sound in his ears, down to his toes and surrounding his body. He looked at the prat with new eyes, as though he had suddenly grown another limb: a beautiful, music-making limb. It was true that while holding the violin, man and instrument seemed to become one, the prat moving with every part of the little ditty he had just played out. Merlin held eye contact with him the whole time, which was both intimidating and glorious in a weird way.

“That was—wow. That was lovely,” Merlin said, his breath catching a little. “You should keep playing.”

The prat smirked again, an expression that had definitely become his signature look in Merlin’s mind, but was somehow not entirely unpleasant. “Yeah, well, come on now. It would be unfair of you to make me do all the work; I’m hardly up for a solo performance tonight, no matter how adoring my fans are.”

“Oh yeah, your many fans,” Merlin replied, rolling his eyes. “You probably shouldn’t overexert yourself, anyway. Wouldn’t want to strain a muscle or something.”

“Well, it would make it a lot easier on me if you would join in with all this music making business,” the prat said, grinning wickedly. “I know you can write lyrics, so I assume you can sing. Do it for the fans, if not for me. I can guarantee you’ll know this one.”

Before Merlin could protest further (and he had intended to protest further—he really was not interested in singing) the prat had placed his bow back on the strings and began playing _Country Roads._

_Oh, fucking hell._

Merlin suddenly found himself blushing like crazy. The prat was staring at him, eyes boring into his very soul. The intro was about to end, and he was going to have to sing, and this was all very stressful—

And to his own great surprise, Merlin began singing. The lyrics were coming from a part of his brain that he felt he didn’t have full access to, but they sounded right in the open space. He had learned them by heart, it was true; but the combination of his nerves and his annoyance were making it really hard to focus on anything.

He tripped up a little at a certain part of the verse, and the prat stumbled over it, too, but after he winced a little, he quickly got over it. They actually sounded relatively good together, and he could get past the mortification so long as he didn’t think too hard about it.

They were just entering the second refrain when a van pulled up outside, and to Merlin’s great embarrassment, Kilgarrah and a couple of his friends came down the stairs and joined them. Of course, the prat merely smirked (ok, it was annoying) and kept playing. 

Kilgarrah had brought two others with him, and they each had instruments close at hand, somehow. They all joined in and finished the song together, and to Merlin’s great surprise, he found it was actually very nice music and it worked, somehow.

As soon as the final note rung out, they were all clapping and shouting, the prat looking uncharacteristically nice. The elderly gentlemen clapped loudest, hailing Merlin’s singing ability, and…

“Arthur, you sound as good as ever!” one of the men suddenly said, his voice booming with pride.

Merlin looked at the man in surprise, then back at the prat—Arthur?—and back again, his expression nothing short of an all-out gape.

“Wait…did you say Arthur?” he practically squeaked, his heart clamoring in his chest. “Certainly you don’t mean to say…you can’t be…what’s your last name?”

The pr—no, dammit, Arthur—looked at him in shock. “Didn’t I tell you my name? It’s Arthur Pendragon, to be clear.”

“OH MY GODDDD.” Merlin wailed, covering his face with his hands. 

The older men all looked extremely confused, their eyes traveling back and forth between Arthur and Merlin.

“What’s your problem? Is my name really such a big deal?” Arthur said, his tone all innocent.

“I can’t even believe this!” Merlin said, removing his hands from his face so he could show Arthur the anger in his eyes. “Here I was, thinking Arthur Pendragon was a pinnacle of hope in my life, someone I could admire and was a real gentleman, and all along…you’re Arthur Pendragon! You! You prat, I can’t believe this!”

“What are you even talking about? This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. ‘Pinnacle of hope?’ You read too much, you idiot.” Arthur quipped back, rolling his eyes.

“ _I_ read too much? _YOU_ read too much!” Merlin shouted, his initial shock simmering away rather quickly, leaving him feeling as though he was finally getting a truth he had known all along.

“You are such an idiot, _Mer_ lin.”

The three gentlemen were laughing now, and Merlin found himself smiling despite himself. He was surprised to find himself relieved, and really, he had to get a handle on his emotions, because a couple hours ago, Arthur Pendragon being the prat would have really upset him, but now, it seemed like the best possible option in the world.

 

It was really quite late by the time they all finished drinking a cup of tea. Merlin was not exactly looking forward to the conversation his parents would be having with him later; that is, if they even noticed his absence. Certainly Will would have, only Merlin knew that he was to be visiting their aunt again that evening, so at least he wouldn’t be one Merlin’s case about it.

Otherwise, Merlin felt bizarrely light and happy as he went to say goodbye to everyone, their little rag-tag group of music makers. As he got to Arthur, though, he stood up and said,

“I’ll walk you home, Merlin. It is a bit dark after all, don’t want you to get lost or anything.”

Merlin pretended to be affronted, but really, this was exactly what he wanted.

Merlin wanted to ask Arthur a million questions about the books, the book cards, and whether he was aware Merlin had checked out all the same books as him. Part of him was certain that this must be the case, because why else would their names just happen to be on the same books? The other part of Merlin was way too afraid to ask, and decided it was very much a good idea to save that conversation for a later time.

For now, they walked lazily enough, side by side, close enough to touch if either one of them was brave enough. Merlin didn’t really know what to think of that, so he decided to ignore it, too. 

Or at least he tried.

“So, Moon really was responsible for bringing you to the shop that one day?” Arthur asked, a funny grin on his face.

“Yeah, I saw him on the train. He was just chilling there, seemed to have no specific destination in mind. When he got off, I had to follow him.”

“Merlin,” Arthur suddenly said, looking at Merlin with a kind of curiosity in his eyes. “How do you do stuff like that? I mean, how do you get up on trains and follow random cats? Or…write lyrics about concrete and the ozone breaking?” 

“Hey! That wasn’t meant for human eyes. That’s really not my best work—”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant.” Arthur sighed. “I thought the lyrics were good, really I did. It’s just…how did you even think of that? Where do these things come from?”

Merlin tried to guage what it was Arthur really wanted to know. He seemed desperate, like he had been waiting to ask this question, or maybe like there was some great Mystery of Merlin that had to be solved, and he was playing the role of Sherlock Holmes.

“I dunno,” Merlin answered, really thinking about it. “I guess I really do just read too much. I’m always looking for a story that I can write, mostly out of habit, I suppose.”

Arthur was quiet at that, merely huffing a response.

“What about you, Arthur? You really are quite enigmatic to me. Do you live with Kilgarrah?”

“No, Kilgarrah’s just my grandfather. I live with my parents. I enjoy being with grandfather, though, because he’s not quite so…” Arthur searched around for the right word. “…controlling, if you know what I mean.”

Merlin nodded slightly, although his own parents were the exact opposite. 

“It’s just, they have my life scheduled out for me. They know exactly what _they_ want, and they aren’t afraid to let me know. My dad especially. He wants me to graduate from the best school and become a business man or something. And even though I know I could do it, and probably be damn smart at it—”

Merlin tried not to roll his eyes at his smug tone.

“I just don’t see myself working in an office every day. Or a lab. Or any of those engineer-y type things. That’s all well and good, but I want to master an art. I’ve been chipping away at this violin making thing for years now, and I’m still far from perfect, but I could see myself doing really well at it. It’s just a step along the way; I want to be a craftsman, but my dad sees it as poor man’s work, which I suppose it is.”

“Why do you want to make violins?” Merlin asked curiously.

Arthur bit his lip a little, like he was afraid Merlin would judge him. “It’s just..” he began quietly. “Have you ever created something really perfect, and really beautiful, and known that it wouldn’t have happened without you? And then, you can play it, or give it to someone, and it will make them happy, too?” Arthur sighed, but Merlin interjected.

“I know that feeling exactly. It’s when you realize that you finally have skills after ages of practice, and that people will want you to continue doing what you’re doing. I felt that way when I wrote the lyrics for Gwen.” Merlin hadn’t even fully realized it until Arthur said it that way, and then he found that it was exactly right.

Arthur smiled at him, his eyes alight. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. And even though it’s probably the most naïve thing in the world, it also seems really right to me for some reason.”

“You should go for it, then.” Merlin said simply. “It would be an adventure, if nothing else. Besides, you’ll always have business to fall back on, since you’re so brilliant.” He panned dryly. 

“You’re right, I will, Merlin. In good time, you’ll learn that I’m brilliant at most things.” Arthur said airily, sticking his hands in his pocket.

“Yeah, right, you great big prat.” Merlin said, looking skeptically at Arthur, who suddenly broke out into a grin.

“You certainly love that word, don’t you.” 

“In good time, you’ll learn that I’m in possession of many good words which describe you completely, you dollop head.” 

“Alright, for someone who’s supposed to be good with words, I can assure you, ‘dollop head’ is not a thing.”

“It is. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

They both stood in front of Merlin’s complex, grinning at each other like loons. Merlin didn’t want to end the night, and Arthur certainly looked like he felt the same way, but all the same, Arthur broke the silence between them first.

“I best be off, I suppose.” He sounded hesitant, but there was really nothing else for it. “I’ll be seeing you, Merlin Emrys.”

“Bye, Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin watched him from the doorway until he was out of sight.


	6. In Which Plans Are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin deals with uncomfortable emotions by not dealing with them. And by escaping to the roof.

Merlin walked upstairs as slowly as possible.

A feeling of happiness was threatening to explode out of him and cover the whole stairwell with its fantastic glitter. At least, Merlin imagined it would be glittery, this feeling welling in the pit of his stomach and making him feel exquisitely nervous and breathtakingly happy at the same time.

_Arthur Pendragon._

The name was really so perfect in every way. Arthur looked like an Arthur, which was unbelievably satisfying in itself alone. The fact that he was gorgeous really helped things a lot. But beyond that, Merlin felt a strange and unavoidable connection to Arthur, almost as if his whole life was waiting for this moment, like he was designed to know Arthur. Like Arthur was designed to know him, despite his initial pratishness (or perhaps because of it, it really was hard to tell).

As he entered his apartment, Merlin felt suddenly self-conscious. This was all moving really fast, and he felt like his exuberance was written all over his face, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that his life had just been changed in its entirety, which itself was a ridiculous thought that Merlin didn’t even bother to feel ashamed of.

It was almost impossible to think that just earlier that day, Lance had confronted him and brought up that issue…was it really just that afternoon? It hit Merlin hard as his Arthur-induced happiness started to wear away and reveal that his world was, actually, slightly in crisis. 

No one was around in the flat. His parents had obviously already gone to bed, and Will was no where to be seen. It was a relief to be alone, to not have to defend himself or deal with the consequences of getting back late. But it was also slightly lonely, and Merlin found himself inexplicably missing Arthur again already. 

He didn’t put too much thought into the exam of the next day, choosing to just go to sleep instead.

 

The next morning was hell getting out of bed. Merlin didn’t really process anything completely; he stumbled around, vaguely aware of brushing his teeth and eating something stale and unappetizing but nonetheless nourishing on some level. His mom didn’t comment on the late night; maybe she was unaware of it. Merlin was relieved slightly, but didn’t have the chance to think too much about it on his way out the door. 

“Late, late, late…God, I don’t want to be late.” He muttered as he walked quickly between puddles and gripped his umbrella, the rain aggressively hitting him on all sides. 

He began running, his head starting to hurt and his breath catching. _I was not built for this kind of exertion_ , he thought wearily, the rain splashing around his ankles and getting his socks wet. He was just cresting the hill before his school when things got really bad really fast.

_Lance._

It only took a glance for Merlin to recognize the fit torso and running legs of Lance, and it would be just Merlin’s luck that Lance was running the perfect speed to head Merlin off from a side street ahead.

_God, why me? Maybe if I just pretend I don’t see him. Maybe if I just avoid eye contact._

Who was he kidding? Lance was the only other person on the street and it was strikingly obvious that Merlin couldn’t avoid talking to him in some capacity. 

“Hey Merlin,” he said quietly, jogging up next to Merlin, his umbrella bumping slightly with Merlin’s. 

“Hey,” Merlin said weakly, trying not to produce a tone that sounded like he wanted to commit to a conversation. 

“Nasty weather, huh?”

“Yeah, most definitely,” Merlin said, trying desperately to skirt around the banal and yet avoid the serious.

“Bell’s gonna ring any minute.” Lance had considerably slowed down to a run next to him. Merlin couldn’t help but resent this, but took it as an opportunity anyway.

“Yeah. You should run on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“You sure?”

Figures Lance would still be polite even after being rejected. 

“Please. I’ll see you in class, yeah?”

“Ok. See you then.” Lance sped up again, reaching the school in no time at all while Merlin meandered behind, trying not to let the misery and awkwardness swallow him up. 

A few minutes later, Merlin was sinking into his desk chair, sweaty and generally unhappy in every way. The only good thing was that Gwen was back in school, although in light of recent events, she was not exactly the best person to be talking to.

“Merlin, you look a mess. What happened?” Gwen said, and Merlin was relieved to hear her lighthearted tone. So she didn’t know about the Lance situation, yet.

“Not my finest moment,” Merlin grumbled back, fanning himself with a notebook. He felt himself relax infinitesimally since they only had free period for the first hour or so. “How are you Gwen? Any better?”

Gwen frowned a little, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Been better, but today is definitely looking up compared to yesterday.”

“Hey, there’s a plus,” Merlin said gently, squeezing her hand. “Hang in there. In classic Gwen style, I’m sure you’ll come round quickly and focus on schoolwork, top priority and all.”

“That’s sweet, Merlin,” she said sarcastically, grinning all the same. “How sentimental of you. You’re going to have to promise me something, though.”

“What’s that?”

“If I’m not married by the time I’m forty, we’re getting married, gay or not.” Gwen flashed him a look so commanding that Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok, ok, it’s a deal. Plus, I always knew you wanted a piece of this,” he gestured at himself. “My future husband may object, though.”

“I might have been more skeptical about the future husband thing had I not heard a rumor this morning.”

“About me?” Merlin could feel the blood drain from his face, desperately praying that Gwen hadn’t heard. She couldn’t have, not with her joking around and everything.

“About you and a certain guy named Arthur Pendragron walking about together last night.” Gwen laughed at Merlin’s sudden intake of breath.

“Gwen! Shush, not so loud.” Merlin tried to peak a glance towards Lance, who wasn’t sitting too far off a few rows over. “How did you find that out?”

“God, Merlin, the eyes of the school are everywhere. And everyone knows Arthur Pendragon. At least, all the upperclassmen do.”

Merlin had always made a point of not associating himself with the politics of the school. He was too absentminded to notice, most of the time, but it was also to do with the fact that he surrounded himself with less-than popular people who were awesome but not quite at the same level of well-known awesome as actual popular people. 

“Well, I didn’t, ok?” Merlin huffed out. “And don’t give me that look. You know I’m shit with names.”

“Alright, Merlin, whatever.” Gwen rolled her eyes, her scandalized look dissipating. “You’re literally ignorant, is what you are. We’ve talked about him before! Remember last year when he was top of the class, and everyone made a huge deal of it?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t recall that ever happening. Listen, he might have some base level popularity, but this school is fucking huge.”

“I grant you that for someone who’s fairly well-known, he spends precious little time on campus besides for class. Still…your out-of-the-loopedness really astounds me sometimes.”

“Loopedness is not a word.”

“It is now. We’re way off subject, though. Tell me why you two were walking together in the dark late at night.”

“‘In the dark late at night’ is kinda redundant, wouldn’t you say?”

“Don’t distract. Spill.”

“It was nothing! We started talking because I stumbled into his grandfather’s shop one day…” Partial lie. “And he walked me home. That’s all.” That was true. Kind of.

“I sense there’s something you’re not telling me…” Gwen quirked an eyebrow, but just as she was about to launch into what Merlin could tell was going to be a full-on cross-examination, someone from the front of the room pointed back in their direction and shouted, “Emrys is over there!”

Merlin looked up at the irritating voice and found that behind the pointing guy was Arthur Pendragon himself.

“ _Speak of the fucking devil,_ ” Gwen murmured softly behind him, as Merlin hastily stood up. Whatever it was Arthur wanted, there was no way Merlin was going to discuss anything with Lance sitting a few seats away. And the whole class was suddenly alert to Arthur’s presence in conjunction with Merlin’s name being shouted. 

“Thanks,” Arthur said coolly to the dude at the front of the room as Merlin stepped up next to him. “Hey, Merlin.”

“Arthur. What are you doing here?” Merlin said quickly, trying to figure out what the hell was going on while what seemed like thousands of eyes rested on the two of them, keenly waiting for something to happen.

“Good morning to you too,” Arthur said, a smirk on his face. “Just wanted a word real quick. Have a second?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Merlin said distractedly. “Could we speak outside?”

Someone had the gall to snicker as they began to leave, breaking the relative silence, and soon other people were laughing slightly too and whispering. Merlin blushed a deep scarlet, trying desperately to pretend that Lance wasn’t in the room, an impossible feat.

Arthur, on the other hand, didn’t even seem to notice the attention of all their fellow students as he led the way into the hallway outside. He started to slow, but Merlin grabbed his sleeve and pulled him in the direction of the nearest stairwell to the roof.

“Are we supposed to go up here?” Arthur said quietly as the ascended the stairs, Merlin’s cheeks beginning to cool a bit the further they got from the classroom. 

“‘Supposed to’ is a relative term.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not, actually.” Merlin was pretty sure he could hear Arthur grinning.

“It’s better than down there with our unabashedly nosy peers. I fucking love high school so much.” He deadpanned, opening the door at the top of the stairs with maybe a little more force than necessary. 

They stepped out of the dark stairs into blinding sunlight, the world slightly damp and oddly lighted in the wake of the dark storm that still lingered on the horizon, threatening to double back any minute and pour more rain on them.

Arthur came up to walk next to Merlin, a few steps taking them both to the edge of the rooftop. Merlin leaned his elbows on the rail and looked over the wide span of city and clouds before him. It was a glorious sight, but he really could not register very much beyond the quiet sound of Arthur breathing beside him.

“What did you want to talk about?” Merlin asked, glancing away from the sight before him and focusing completely on Arthur, who returned his gaze.

“I wanted to ask you three things.”

“Oh, three, hm? That seems very specific.” Now it was Merlin’s turn to smirk.

“I’m a very specific person, Merlin.”

“Why am I not surprised about that at all? Your probably one of those people who has a planner with all your little meetings and such written out.” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. “You seem like the planner type.”

“Oh, there’s a type, is there? For your information, I do have a planner, but that is irrelevant to my current agenda.”

“You’re an agenda person too. Of course.” Merlin sighed, his tone put-upon.

“Shut up, would you?” Arthur said, bumping Merlin’s shoulder like they had been friends for years. 

“Can’t.” Merlin said, shoving back.

“ITEM NUMBER ONE.” Arthur said dramatically, making Merlin laugh. “I have ordered them according to how long I estimated your answers would be. So. Would you like to come to the shop this afternoon after school and see the newest antique?”

“You thought that would be the shortest answer?” Merlin asked slyly.

“It’s a yes or no question, Merlin.”

“Yes, but you see, Arthur, these things take careful deliberation. I have to weigh the risks and benefits, and of course, I need to check my schedule.”

“No such thing. There is no way you have a schedule. You’re the romantic, book reading-type. Meaning you are either averse to schedules or the word does not exist in your vocabulary.”

“Hey! You don’t give us romantics enough credit. I am a genius at schedule-making. I love sticky notes and pens and calendars, and I love making lists—“

“The key thing though, is making lists that you actually keep to, and somehow I doubt you do that.”

“No one ever said that was a requirement. Pretty sure it’s not. Plus, being late to things and forgetting about appointments keeps people on their toes.”

“How about forgetting lunches? Unusually large and impossible-to-forget lunches?”

“I told you, that wasn’t my lunch! Therefore all the motivation to remember it was completely lost on me.”

“Look, I know you’re just dying to reassure me about your strict dietary menus, but I asked you a yes or no question, remember?”

“Yes.” Merlin said simply, shrugging a little.

“Yes you remember, or yes you’ll come?”

“The latter.” Merlin said, angling his body towards Arthur and smiling slightly. Best indulge the guy a little with his agenda obsession. “Next action item, your grace?”

“That’s more like it,” Arthur said, also facing Merlin. “I want to know if you’ll be willing to stay for dinner.”

“Yes.” Merlin said simply, schooling his features so as not to reveal how absolutely fantastic this evening was shaping up to be.

Arthur smiled. “See, how easy that was? Ok. Third question.” He said, just as the sun peaked out from behind a cloud. It made Arthur’s hair shimmer slightly, and Merlin had to concentrate more than usual to avoid staring openly at him. “This one isn’t a simple yes or no. Hence the reason it comes last in the list of Things Which Must Be Asked.”

“Shall I try to guess it, or are you going to ask me?”

“God, you’re impatient. I’m getting there. What are you doing Tuesday next?”

“Arthur. We just discussed this. I don’t keep schedules.”

“Make an approximation.” Arthur said, in a tone of true exasperation.

“What time of day?” 

“Evening.”

Merlin was fairly positive nothing would be happening in his boring life, but it seemed best not to seem overly eager, even though he completely and totally was.

“I’m fairly sure I could pencil you in, _if_ that’s what you’re inferring.” 

“If you would be so kind as to do so, there’s a concert in Avalon Park and I’m playing a song, and it would be great if you wanted to come. You know, if you actually are free, and interested…” 

Merlin observed as Arthur turned from overconfident prat to a stammering, insecure teenager within the space of approximately three seconds. It really was adorable, and Merlin struggled not to laugh at him. That, and he was momentarily very distracted by the fact that this may have been interpreted as a date by some people, and Merlin desperately wanted to count himself as one of them.

“I’d like to come.” Merlin said, and Arthur’s eyes immediately glanced up to meet his, relief etching itself on his eyebrows. “You never told me you did performances! Here you are, saying you can hardly play at all, and meanwhile you’re playing in park concerts!”

“I was trying to be humble, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “God, there’s just no pleasing you sometimes.”

Merlin was about to reply with some kind of retort, but the bell began ringing.

“Oh fuck, I should probably get back to class.” Merlin sighed, unwilling to move from this safe haven with Arthur, this space that had become entirely theirs in the slightly chilly, rain-smelling air. The thought of returning to the world of Lance and Gwen from here seemed slightly daunting and not even a little pleasant.

Somewhat to Merlin’s (delighted) surprise, Arthur looked equally crestfallen as they walked towards the stairwell.

“But tonight, yeah?”

“Do you want me to meet you in front of school?”

“Sure, as soon as class is out.” Arthur said, and Merlin could practically hear the excitement in his voice.

“Until then, Pendragon.”

“Good day to you, Emrys.”

They parted in the hallway, and Merlin could hardly contain the buzz of anticipation that started in the top of his head and crept all the way down to his toes.


	7. Magic is Afoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin can't help but think that his life is eternally cursed to be a series of close-calls, almosts, and maybe-one-days. Also, Kilgharrah is really shit at antiquing.

The day went by achingly slowly.

Merlin was continually distracted from everything in his life by the coming event set for the evening. When he returned to class, Gwen didn’t have time to ask him about Arthur, but she gave him a look that plainly said, “ _I will know what is going on eventually. I am coming for you next opportunity I get._ ”

It was really very predatory.

As soon as they got out of class, she practically tackled him in the hallway.

“Merlin, what’s going on? Why did Arthur Pendragon come to our classroom? What is it that you aren’t telling me? Come on, throw me a bone!”

“Gwen! Chill! All in good time,” Merlin said, breathing deeply. This was getting a little out of hand.

“Come on, my curiosity is _killing_ me. Everyone’s talking about it. He certainly did make it dramatic, coming in the room like that and all.”

Merlin face palmed his forehead. “Is everyone really talking? Can’t they just stay out of it? I feel like there must be something else more juicy going on.”

“I don’t know, Merlin, this is pretty juicy. _Please_ tell me.”

“Listen, could we maybe discuss it not on school grounds? I could come to yours.”

“When? Tonight?”

“Not tonight. I’m actually busy.”

“YOU’RE HANGING OUT WITH HIM, AREN’T YOU?” Gwen practically (ok, definitely) shouted, a squealing noise very similar to that of a small rodent coming from the part of her that was obviously most interested in causing Merlin pain and embarrassment. 

“Shut it, you're attracting attention.”

“This is too much. You’re like some kind of adorable love-struck kitten.”

“I find that degrading.” Merlin said, grimacing slightly. “And I’m not love-struck. Arthur and I are friends. I don’t think he even knows I’m gay,” Merlin said quietly. “Hell, we just met! There’s no way he could know.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no way he knows. You’re not gay at all, Merlin.”

Merlin just gave her a look. 

“Listen, I’ll see you later. But this is not over, Merlin! I will have the truth eventually.”

“Alright, but definitely not at lunch. I don’t want you telling everyone that Arthur and I are a thing. I really can’t afford to have everyone breathing down my neck…”

Gwen just smiled sweetly (too sweetly) and walked to her next class.

Over the next hour, Merlin couldn’t stop thinking about what Gwen had said. Was he really obviously gay? Was Arthur thinking that Merlin was going to try something? It’s not that he was ashamed of being gay; not at all, really. His family didn’t seem to care too much (typical) and his friends thought it was great that he was honest about his identity. But the idea that Merlin might be making Arthur uncomfortable made things more complicated.

It was strange, the chemistry between them. Merlin had already marveled at how easily they fell right into conversation, and how being around Arthur was so comfortable. Yet, there was something weighty to this friendship, like Arthur _knew_ Merlin already and wanted more than just friendship. The whole book card thing was really bothering him. He wanted to know if it really was just coincidental or if there was something else there…

In classic Merlin-style, he had already begun concocting a story about the books. That Arthur somehow known Merlin’s taste and had wanted to know why he had read the books he had. Except, that didn’t line up with how Arthur had already read some of the books before Merlin had. That had to be coincidence. There was no way Arthur had read the books in anticipation of Merlin reading them, right?

Merlin did wonder slightly about the way Arthur talked to him, the way he looked at him, that nervousness when he had asked Merlin about the concert. It all added up to Merlin feeling like there was something deeper between them, even though it was wrong for him to make any type of assumption about Arthur’s sexuality. Not to mention last night, when the warmth of the setting sun had filled up the room with its dreamy haze and Arthur had leaned in close, the warmth of his breath on Merlin’s face…

The whole thing was confusing. Merlin felt mostly like it was too good to last, that he was undoubtedly projecting his own desire and that Arthur wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way at all. Or perhaps Arthur was just socially awkward and didn’t know the meaning of personal space. But that tension between them…there was no way that was projected. Merlin was overwhelmed by the swiftness of it all, but he knew that Arthur could ask him anything and he would say yes. 

_Reckless, Merlin._ The voice in his head whispered, trying to make him see sense. _Remember how you were saying you’re naïve? Refer back to that._

Merlin chose not to listen, the thoughts of Arthur flooding his mind. He didn’t hesitate to drown everything else out, to let it all consume him and to make up stories for the rest of the class period.

Lunch was next, and Merlin was stupidly grateful that Gwen did not reveal anything about the rumors of the past morning and evening. The conversation at lunch was basically devoted to the upcoming recital with _Country Roads_ as a focal point. That, and Gwaine’s debate with Elena over which hair product was best.

“I can’t even imagine switching shampoos. I will just about die if they ever discontinue my line of product.” Elena said.

“You’re insane! It has to be Pantene. You can’t honestly say that anything is better. Look at these luscious locks!” Gwaine said loudly, flipping his hair back.

“You are so vain! And stupid.” Elena spat back, a grin on her face all the same.

“You’re the stupid one. I can’t believe you spend money on that crap.”

“What are you implying about my hair?!”

“Um. Guess.” Gwaine said mischievously, and was answered by a piece of lettuce in the face from Elena’s salad.

Merlin just shook his head at them, too lost in his own thoughts to engage with their slightly (really) ridiculous banter. It was obvious to everyone that Elena would probably end up with Gwaine at some point, but for now, they were still playing the awkward constantly-flirting-but-not-dating game.

Unfortunately, Merlin could only stay quiet for so long before someone noticed.

“What’s eating you, Emrys?” Gwaine suddenly asked, catching Merlin’s eye. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet today. Something on your mind?”

“Nah, just exams, you know,” Merlin lied hastily, trying not to let his eyes give him away. That was his biggest weakness, or at least, that’s what Gwen said.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t let them get you down.” Gwaine said, stealing a crouton from Elena’s salad. “Just think, one day when we’re all old, none of this will matter.”

Merlin snorted. “That’s comforting. Thanks a bunch, Gwaine, I feel loads better now.”

“As you should. Why take these things seriously anyway? As soon as high school’s over I’m out of here, you don’t even know. I’m going to travel, be extraordinary, maybe earn a few degrees eventually…”

“Oh, sure.” Elena said dryly. “You’re going to get degrees. I bet.”

“I am going to get so many degrees you won’t know what my title is anymore. I’ll be a motherfucking doctor before you know it.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and tuned out their conversation again, Gwaine’s overdramatic arrogance grating on his nerves a little. He wanted the day to end, the lunch to be over, to stop worrying about people talking about him. Mostly, he just wanted to see Arthur.

The afternoon actually went impressively quickly, what with an exam (which Merlin felt woefully unprepared for) and another class that just had them watch a film. Merlin practically sprinted out of the building when the bell finally dismissed them all, only taking a second to get his stuff from his locker before hastily leaving.

When he got to the sidewalk in front of school, Arthur was already there.

“Merlin.” He said seriously, his voice comically contrasted with the grin on his face.

“Arthur.” Merlin replied instantly, trying to quell the nervous shivers travelling through his bloodstream. He wasn’t prepared for this, even after waiting all day; for the rush of nerves and the anxious excitement. 

“Shall we?” Arthur said, and Merlin partially expected him to hold out his elbow for Merlin to lace his arm through. He didn’t.

“We shall.” Merlin smiled, already feeling himself relax under Arthur’s steady gaze.

They began walking in the general direction of the shop, silent and a little awkward at first. Merlin felt like this time with Arthur was different, maybe because it was planned and not spontaneous as there other meetings had been. _We’ve only known each other a day,_ Merlin willed himself to remember. _It’s bound to be awkward…_

Still, there was something serene about walking next to Arthur in the late afternoon light, their shadows mirroring each other in front of them, the stress of school and Gwen and Lance and everything else already distant and forgotten.

“So Merlin,” Arthur drawled out suddenly, breaking the relative peace in Merlin’s head. “You going to try to guess what I’m going to show you, or are you just going to continue being contemplative over there?” 

Merlin laughed despite himself. “God, you’re impatient. Can’t even stand a second without me focusing all my attention on you.”

“It has been a whole day,” Arthur whined. “And I really did think you’d be bugging me about it by now.”

Merlin felt a little more nervous at Arthur’s words. What did that mean? Better not to overanalyze it...“How many guesses do I get?” he sighed.

“Three. Duh,” Arthur said, smirking.

“Alright, alright. Hm…It really could be anything. Do I get a hint?”

“This early on? Come on, Merlin, you haven’t even guessed anything yet.”

“Jeez, you have so many rules…” Merlin muttered. “Figures, with you being the most controlling person I’ve ever met and all.”

“Surely I’m not the _most_ controlling. Although I suppose you probably wouldn’t hang out with many organized people, what with being all artsy and stuff.”

“Listen, you really need to stop oppressing me with your tyrannical stereotypes. I’m not nearly so free-spirited.”

“Did you study for your exam today?” Arthur said, a smug look on his face.

“Oh, piss off. You know I was with you last night, so if I get a bad grade, it’s because of you, and therefore your fault.” 

“Merlin! Shame on you! Plus, you could have studied when you got home. Too busy dreaming about me, I suppose.”

“It would be more accurate to say my nightmares were haunted by you.” Merlin quipped back, a grin on his face as Arthur feigned mock-offense.

“Impossible. I’m too charming.”

“Arrogant, more like.” Merlin murmured quietly.

“I am not arrogant!” 

“You are. And supercilious.”

“Big word, Merlin. You sure you know what that means?”

“Of course I do. I read quite a lot, you know.” 

“WE’RE OFF TOPIC AGAIN.” Arthur said, hitting Merlin on the head playfully. Merlin swiped at him but missed. “Why is it that every time I talk to you we end up talking about something completely unrelated to what _I_ wanted to talk about?”

“Maybe because you’re an arrogant, supercilious, condescending prat.” Merlin said, counting off on his fingers.

“More likely because you’re a scatterbrained, insane, idiotic prat.”

“Probably not, though.” 

“Could you just make a guess?” Arthur said, sounding antagonized but looking at Merlin quite fondly anyway.

“Ok, here goes. Is it the crown of an ancient king who used to rule over an ancient kingdom with ancient knights and an ancient queen?”

“Nope,” Arthur said. “Nothing so ancient, at least I don't think.”

“Is it a baroness, Baron’s long-lost lover?”

“No. Pretty good guess, though. Grandfather tells me he once had a companion statuette,” Merlin’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity. “BUT that’s a story for another day, certainly not now. One guess left, make it good.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, his voice suddenly becoming dreamy with his ponderings. “It’s a carpet. A Persian rug, delivered here in the night by a darkly cloaked figure. The rug is red and it has a border with golden stars embroidered in tiny stiches around the edges. The weird part, though, is the little dragons stitched among the stars, creating the illusion that the dragons are flying in the night sky. And even though it looks like a pretty regular rug, this isn’t just any rug: it’s a flying carpet, and it was meant to make its way to this particular antique store because it turns out that your grandfather is really a powerful magician and he made the rug in Persia many years ago. That’s why you want to show me so much, so we can fly away and fight dragons together.”

Merlin stopped for breath, and he found they had stopped walking. Arthur was looking at him oddly, and Merlin suddenly felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he realized what just happened.

“Sorry,” he said shyly, turning away from Arthur’s intense look. “I do that sometimes.”

He didn’t have a name for that look on Arthur’s face. It was somewhere between admiring and disbelief, between awe and envy. 

“No,” Arthur said, his voice quiet. “That was brilliant, Merlin, really. But why dragons?” 

“What?” Merlin laughed as they began walking again. “What about dragons?”

“Why did you choose them?”

Merlin scratched the back of his head absently. “I don’t know,” he said. “Most of the time I just make shit up and it comes how it comes. But this time…Dragons just felt right. Like they would be on a magic carpet, but particularly this magic carpet.”

“You’re right, though. It would be dragons.”

They had arrived at the shop, and Merlin had almost forgotten that there was a real antique in question here. The fantasy had kind of enchanted him; he would like for nothing better than to get away from everything with Arthur, to find a secret world where they could live and not worry about anything. He wished it could be true.

“Well, I wish I could say that you were right,” Arthur said, and Merlin was startled to find him echoing his own thoughts. “But…it’s not a magic carpet. According to Grandfather, it seems like a magical object, though, so at least you were close.”

They were descending the back stairs again, and Merlin still felt absolutely awe-struck by the view, his soul hungry to see more of it, to stare at it for hours. So long as Arthur was also there, that is.

“I’m curious now. You have officially peaked my interest,” Merlin said, following Arthur into the house and away from the view.

“About time. I think you’ll like it.”

They went upstairs and Arthur told Merlin to wait in the backroom again, where they had looked at Baron. Baron wasn’t there, but was instead back in his place of honor in the front of the shop.

Arthur disappeared into another room, and came back a minute later with a long, wrapped object.

“What is it?” Merlin said, sitting up straighter as Arthur put it on the table and began to unwrap it.

“Look for yourself.”

He finished unwrapping it, and Merlin found himself looking at a long, carved staff, made of light-colored wood. Its base was made of several stems of wood that separated at the top of the staff and formed a dome. Inset in the dome was a blue stone that glimmered slightly in the light from the window. 

“Wow,” Merlin breathed, reaching to touch the staff gently. “It’s amazing.”

“Grandfather bought it from an old lady who was cleaning out her basement,” Arthur said, answering Merlin’s unasked question. “I can’t believe she just had this laying around down there. Makes me wonder what other crazy stuff she has,” he mused.

“I wish I had stuff like this laying around my house.” Merlin said, shaking his head in wonderment. “I can’t even believe this. Does your Grandfather know where it came from yet?”

“No idea. He’s just begun investigating it, but he bought it on the spot anyway. He said he knew it was special, even though he wasn’t sure what it was.”

“I’m sure it is.” Merlin said emphatically, picking up the staff gingerly. “It feels special, it definitely does.”

“So you’re not disappointed it’s not a magic carpet?” Arthur asked, grinning and sitting on the table slightly.

“Nah, I’m still a little disappointed.” Merlin said, smiling back. “I have always wanted to fly. But I guess this will do.”

“You can’t have it all, Merlin.”

 _What can I have, then?_ Merlin suddenly desperately wanted to ask. The words stuck in his throat, but he really did want to know. What was it between them that made this so special, this feeling that he had while looking into Arthur’s shining blue eyes? What made Merlin think that Arthur knew exactly what he was doing when he talked to Merlin, like he knew everything Merlin thought?

Arthur must have detected a shift in Merlin’s expression, because the air suddenly changed between them, and Merlin knew for certain that he wasn’t imagining the electricity that suddenly filled the space. He found his breath inadvertently hitching, all words lost to him as he got lost completely in the glow that seemed to surround Arthur like a beautiful halo, the shining hair, the deep eyes, the slightly crooked teeth behind slightly parted lips—

Suddenly, Arthur’s hand came up gently to Merlin’s cheek, sliding back to tuck a few stray hairs behind Merlin’s ear. Merlin's breath came in shallow bursts, his whole body still lest any sound break the moment between them. Arthur’s hand travelled into his hair, his thumb stroking slightly over Merlin’s cheekbone.

The look in Arthur’s eyes suddenly became extremely purposeful, as though he knew exactly what he wanted and he was certain that Merlin knew it, too. He began to lean towards Merlin, his warm breath landing on Merlin’s face and making his eyes flutter shut.

Before anything could happen, though, there was the familiar sound of someone on the basement steps, the agonizing and heartbreaking sound of someone coming up into the adjacent room. Merlin’s eyes opened almost as soon as they closed, and Arthur suddenly straightened up, his hand flying away from Merlin’s face. 

“Arthur?” Kilgharrah said from the other room.

“In here,” Arthur said frailly, his voice slightly husky. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Merlin quickly, a look both regretful and disappointed and extremely enigmatic.

“Ah, there you are,” said the old man as he entered the room. “And Merlin, too! So fine to see you again, and so soon.” Kilgharrah observed the two of them, and the staff. “You’re looking at the staff, are you?” Merlin nodded. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“It’s grand,” Merlin said weakly, his whole body trembling slightly.

“You’re feeling all right, aren’t you, Merlin?” Kilgharrah suddenly asked. “You look a bit flushed.”

This, of course, only made Merlin flush more. “I’m completely fine.” He glanced again at Arthur, who only gave him a little wry smile. 

Merlin, of course, couldn’t help but smile back, even though he felt as though he were sharing in an inside joke he didn’t completely understand.

“The staff is beautiful,” Merlin said, focusing on Kilgharrah, trying desperately to compose himself again. “What is the stone?”

“It’s probably turquoise,” Kilgharrah said. “Although it does show signs of being something else. I need to call my stone specialist friend and find out. Anyway, I’m sure you boys are hungry. Let’s go eat, shall we?”

Merlin stood up while Arthur wrapped the staff back up, Kilgharrah saying something about what they were going to have for dinner. The disappointment of what had been interrupted was hitting Merlin in full force now, and he realized that he and Arthur most likely wouldn’t have a chance to be alone for the rest of the night, unless Arthur would walk him home again.

He sincerely hoped Arthur would walk him home.


	8. Something Like Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chicken is also involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone.  
> This story is turning out to be hard to write. But it's all good, things are starting to come together a bit. Also, I made a photo set for the story (yay). It's on tumblr. I'll give y'all a link so you can check it out. Thanks for reading!  
> Photo set: http://bucolicallysublime.tumblr.com/post/51524291598/whisper-of-the-heart-crossover-merlin-emrys-is-a

Dinner was less awkward than Merlin thought it would be, but that was mostly because Kilgharrah was so good at talking, filling the room with stories and words. The food was also startlingly good, as Kilgharrah turned out to be an excellent cook, serving them some kind of chicken curry. The strangest thing was that Arthur seemed perfectly normal, besides the occasional covert smile in Merlin’s direction. For someone who had always shown great impatience at Merlin’s foibles in the past, he seemed to be perfectly content to wait this one out, to continue on with the normally scheduled program of life like he hadn’t just completely ruined Merlin, like he hadn’t just intensified Merlin’s need for him tenfold.

There was some comfort in finally _knowing_ , though. Merlin felt like the confirmation of Arthur’s real feelings for him was worth it alone, even though it would have been highly preferable to see where he went with things. Merlin would find himself zoning out continually during dinner, beginning to imagine what Arthur would have done next. 

Then Arthur would nudge Merlin’s foot with his own and Merlin would blush so hard that he thought Kilgharrah would call him out on it for sure. Luckily, Kilgharrah was too wrapped up in his own thoughts most of the time, and Merlin decided it would be best to engage him in conversation lest his thoughts run away with him again.

“Arthur tells me there’s a statuette that goes with Baron. Is it true?” Merlin said, and Kilgharrah chuckled softly.

“Yes, long ago, there was another statue. The two were bought together. I bought them when I was in the war. Back then, things were different.” Kilgharrah sighed, and Merlin saw a look of bitterness flash across his eyes. “Times were rough for everyone. Nothing was stable or secure, and most people were suffering greatly or else on the road to suffering. I was one of them, fighting because I had no money, subsisting but not really living.

“That was when I met a woman who would become a dear friend of mine not far from where my unit was stationed at that time. She was also terribly poor, but her spirit was stronger than mine. She really changed me, taught me to see the world not as set against me, but as waiting for me to work for it. I never really understood work before meeting her, not even as a soldier. Life was dark for me back then. I had so little access to creative outlets, and I was surrounded by men who cared little for the finer things in life. Well, the long and short of it was that we ended up buying the Baron and his lover in a shop. The two cats riveted us, and even though it cost me a months’ carefully saved wages, I bought both statues. I couldn’t resist.”

“Was the other one very beautiful?” Merlin asked, his head filling with the images of the war-torn world, Kilgharrah and his friend (lover?) going to the shop to buy the only luxury either of them would have known in that time. 

“Indeed, she was. She wore a beautiful, regal dress, and the craftsman had made her eyes out of a blue gemstone very similar to Baron’s. The pair was absolutely gorgeous together, ideal lovers.”

Kilgharrah sighed again, this time more deeply and with finality. Merlin was afraid to stir his reverie. 

Merlin shot a glance over to Arthur, who looked back at him with a slightly grim expression, as though to say, _You’re not going to like the way this story ends._

“I gave the Lady statue to my friend, and shortly after, I was sent home on leave from service after being shot in the arm.” Merlin swallowed, his eyes wide. “It wasn’t a fatal wound, but it was enough to have me sent out of active duty. Unfortunately, it was the worst thing to have happen in many ways. If I hadn’t been shot, I might have stayed longer after the war ended, might have never returned home again. It wasn’t my fate to stay, though. I didn’t have the money to travel back to my friend’s home for many years. When I did, she was no where to be found, and the statue would never return to Baron’s side.”

“Oh no,” Merlin said softly, looking towards the Baron, who sat in the corner of the room. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, it certainly was not ideal,” Kilgharrah sighed ruefully. “But the fact of it all is simple: none of us can choose our destiny and none of us can escape it.”

There was a silence between the three of them as Merlin felt the weight of Kilgharrah’s sorrow saturate the room. He looked up to find the old man smiling, though, and it made him feel slightly relieved.

“Still, old Baron and I do get along famously.”

Merlin smiled then, too, and realized that he had begun treating Kilgharrah and Baron’s separate stories as inextricable in his mind. 

Kilgharrah got up slowly and started clearing away the last of the dishes. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your own devices. I have to call a couple of buyers before it gets too late.”

Merlin hastily looked at the clock. 7:30. It was early still, yet Merlin knew he should try his best to get home before his parents noticed his absence, and he still had homework to do and exams and…

Arthur caught his eye and smiled in that way of his.

Merlin definitely forgot how to breathe momentarily.

“Grandfather, we’ll be downstairs if you need us,” Arthur said lightly, standing up and gesturing for Merlin to follow. “Would you like to go look at my violin again, Merlin?”

“Sure,” Merlin would have laughed at Arthur’s easy cover-up if he had had the breath to do it.

Kilgharrah hummed quietly in acknowledgement and Merlin followed Arthur mutely, unable to focus on anything but walking lest he trip over his own feet in his haste.

“You enjoyed dinner, Merlin?” Arthur asked from in front of him as they descended the stairs. His tone was mocking, and Merlin couldn’t help but exhale a breathy laugh.

“Dinner? What dinner?”

Arthur led him to the porch right outside the back door, and Merlin hardly had time to take in the sight of the city before the door had shut behind him and Arthur had him pinned to it.

They stared at each other, Arthur completely in Merlin’s space, a hand on either side of his head. Merlin saw Arthur’s eyes shining with intention, torn between desire and fear. It was almost as though he wasn’t sure, even after all this time, that Merlin wanted anything to do with him, or that he was doing the right thing. He looked like he was looking for some kind of cue, some kind of indication. Merlin reached up and put his hand on Arthur’s chest, and that was enough.

Merlin felt Arthur’s lips on his own, soft and warm and sweet from the tea they had just been drinking. He parted his own lips gladly, suddenly filled with the electric sensation of Arthur’s tongue skirting over his bottom lip. Merlin felt things intensify, his need for Arthur becoming his main focus. He barely registered that he was now grasping desperately at Arthur’s t-shirt, taking hold of it in fistfuls and pulling Arthur closer.

The world was all sensation. Arthur’s hand in his hair, another on his waist. Their lips, fitting together so well, the crooked angles of Arthur’s teeth beneath his tongue. The smooth back of Arthur’s cotton shirt, the rise and fall of his shoulder blades beneath his fingers. Arthur’s hands travelling up and down Merlin’s body, exploring, searching. The feeling of Arthur’s warm breath on his neck, his lips tracing a hot trail down his jaw…

Merlin was out of breath. They were clumsy, everything was new, they bumped teeth more than once, and most of the time Merlin was probably groping when he meant to caress. But none of that mattered, not really. Because all Merlin felt was the absolute desire to touch and be touched, to hold on and to learn more about the enigmatic and absolutely unbelievable Arthur Pendragon. He buried his nose in the spot between Arthur's neck and shoulder and stayed there for a moment, breathing him in, his smell, his warmth. This couldn’t really be happening. Nothing seemed real: the waning sunlight, the soft hair at Arthur’s nape under his fingertips, the feeling of Arthur laughing softly in his arms, the delirium of it all.

“How about that violin?” Merlin mused softly, still out of breath completely and more turned on than he had ever been, ever. Books didn’t do this feeling justice, this feeling of raw, emotional _bliss_.

Arthur laughed louder. “I knew you’d been waiting all night to see it, Merlin. Didn't want to disappoint, you know.”

“All night? More like two days.” Merlin growled, kissing gently under Arthur’s ear. He felt Arthur’s intake of breath and was satisfied that he had surprised him, the person who was always surprising him.

“Merlin…” Arthur said softly, pulling his head up and resting his forehead against Merlin’s. “I don’t want to sound like a creep, but…”

“Arthur, we are way past that at this point. You used a violin as a euphemism.”

“Well, I want to tell you something that will definitely top that on the creepiness scale. I…kind of stalked you in the library.”

Merlin blinked a few times. “You…stalked me in the library.”

“It wasn’t intentional at first!” Arthur said, playing absently with the collar of Merlin’s school uniform. “I saw you there once about two months ago and you looked like you had just seen a ghost or something. I was going to ask if you were ok, but then I saw you had left a book behind on the table, so I picked it up and read it.”

Merlin laughed. “I’m quite familiar with your tendency to read other peoples’ things,”

“I only did sometimes! Well, a lot of times, ok. And with you, it just kind of evolved from that first book you left behind. The book was really bloody good, and it made me want to know other stuff about you, too. Like why you spent so much time in the library. Or why you read the books that you did. I sometimes tried to predict which books you would take out. I tried to figure out which genres you would read and read all the books there first.”

“But…” Merlin said, the dream-like quality of what was happening only increasing as Arthur continued to talk. “But why? Why me?”

“I can’t quite place it, Merlin, but there’s just something about you.” Arthur said, his thumbs coming up to rub under Merlin’s eyes. “From the moment I saw you that day in the library, I felt like you knew something that I needed to know. That you were probably the smartest person in our school, and I wanted to find out if that was true.”

Merlin couldn’t help but swallow hard, his mouth uncharacteristically dry. “And have I disappointed you?” he whispered softly.

“Merlin, you’re more than I ever expected you to be.”

Arthur kissed him again, gently and without the fiery desperation of before, yet still with great purpose. Merlin couldn’t let his part go unspoken, though; he broke the kiss reluctantly and said, “Arthur, I saw your name, too.”

“I know. I was your “pinnacle of hope,” as I recall. Sorry for the let-down,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“No! I know you’re just joking, but I need you to know that’s not true. I thought about you a lot before I met you. Pretty constantly, actually, once I actually started noticing the book cards.” Arthur blushed a little, and Merlin was surprised to see his words actually held weight for him. “Not to stroke your ego, but I haven’t thought of basically anything else since I found out the other night. God, Arthur, I can’t even believe this is happening. I thought I would die of poor grades and unrequited love.”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed, loudly, and Merlin couldn’t help but just look at him and appreciate him, his hair shining and his skin soft in the light.

“You’re beautiful, Arthur,” he whispered, and Arthur just looked at him fondly.

“I knew I could win back pinnacle status eventually.”

Merlin shoved him on the shoulder.

“Your grandfather won’t see us out here, right?” Merlin asked suddenly, becoming extremely self-conscious. 

“Nah, he’ll be using the telephone in the front office.” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s hand and leading him to the edge of the porch to look at the view. “This is my favorite spot. This is where I would read.”

“I would too, if I lived here,” Merlin said softly, leaning slightly onto Arthur’s side, taking in the warmth of his body next to him and the expanse before them. “God, this city is gorgeous.”

“Merlin, you don’t even realize how much better it is to have you here than just reading some book.”

Merlin was too touched to take offense on behalf of the books. Instead, he just leaned his head on Arthur’s shoulder and sighed.

As they looked out at the sunset, he inexplicably felt like he had found the definition of home.

 

Arthur did walk Merlin home soon after, and Merlin had to fight hard not to be reckless again and blow off the rest of his life for Arthur. He knew Will would be home, though, and his parents would surely notice that he had used up his get-out-jail-free cards.

Surely.

Arthur held his hand most of the time on the way back except when they were around people. Merlin had told him about his anxiety in school, what with people talking about him and all. Arthur had seemed oblivious to school talk himself, but had nodded his head and agreed to keep things on the down low for now. The streets were mostly dark by the time they walked back to Merlin’s, though, giving him ample opportunity to revel in the warmth of Arthur’s hand around his, their fingers lacing together.

Merlin was slightly surprised to find that Arthur wasn’t a particularly public person. For someone so incredibly attractive it should have been illegal, he certainly didn’t run his lifestyle in a very exposed way. He went to class and left school, he said. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the school, but rather because he had always wanted to be working on something, to be doing something productive in his shop. Plus, his group of friends mainly consisted of a guy named Leon who Merlin had never met, and a couple other cursory friends, as well as his fellow students in the violin classes. 

Merlin told him a bit about Gwen, Gwaine, and Elena, but didn’t go into the stuff with Lance. He didn’t want to pollute this beautiful thing he had with Arthur with the stress of that situation. Plus, it was over with, really; besides his concern with Gwen finding out, Merlin knew that Lance would never publicize it, what with being so kind and considerate.

They reached Merlin’s door and he couldn’t help but feel the sudden crushing disappointment at their parting. No one was around anywhere, so Merlin pulled Arthur into a hug, holding him there and wishing it could last for hours.

“Are you sure you have to go? Why don’t we just run away, right now?”

Arthur laughed against him. “We could go to the mountains and live off the land, start a farm.”

“We could have goats and a few sheep.” 

“I would like that. Always an option, you know. When you fail out of school and I get carpal tunnel, we’ll have to go.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, and he could feel Arthur smiling into his hair. “Yeah, because of course it’ll be me who fails while you’re forced to quit. You prat.”

“Glad to see that nothing’s changed, Merlin.” 

Arthur suddenly broke the hug and looked around. He seemed satisfied because he kissed Merlin quickly, lasting for approximately four seconds of happiness, before breaking away again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? Would you maybe want to meet on the roof again before lunch?”

“Yeah, I’ll be free around 10:25.” Merlin agreed, smiling.

“I’ll see you then, Emrys.”

“Until the morn, Pendragon.”

Merlin watched him walk away, waving, and then turned around to head back upstairs, too on top of the world to care that every other part of his life was confusing and tumultuous.


	9. The Elusiveness of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin discovers that three days is long enough to get completely lost, but will never be long enough to be found.

Merlin awoke the next morning tucked into warm sheets, and for a moment, he didn’t remember anything. He just felt the soft blanket and listened to the quiet sounds of his mother preparing for another day in the kitchen.

Then, it all hit him.

The kiss. The dinner. The implications of everything, the absolute wonder that it had actually happened.

Did it all actually happen?

He knew it had, but it felt too good to be true, and in his state of semi-consciousness, the story of him and Arthur felt like a particularly happy dream, the kind you hold close all day and indulgently daydream about just because it seems so good and real. 

It was all the more strange for him, then, to realize that he had every right to that ecstatic fantasy, because it was neither dream nor idle make-believe. So rarely did story-worthy things happen to Merlin that he couldn’t help but marvel at it. For once, it felt like life wasn’t just a cheap imitation of his imagination; instead, he was standing at the intersection between the stories he lusted after and the reality he could now feast on.

His encounter with Arthur, and everything else about Arthur, made the rest of his life seem pesky and absolutely vapid. There was nothing for him to do but to simply breathe, and walk, and eat, and wait until 10:25 with great impatience.

The morning dragged on unceremoniously. Merlin felt on edge, dying to see Arthur again but wondering what this all meant for them. What were they exactly? A couple? Friends who happened to kiss? He felt like everything had _irrevocably_ changed, and he willed himself to believe that he and Arthur were just as irrevocable. That Arthur felt just as strongly as he did about it all, and that there was nothing standing in the way of their happiness together.

Gwen was not in any of his classes during the morning, which was slightly a relief. He wanted to tell her about what had happened, but school was not the place for it. Plus, it was kind of nice to have a secret to himself, the things that had happened only between him and Arthur for now.

Merlin stared out the window of his classroom, watching big, white clouds move lazily across the sky. 9:30. Fifty-five minutes until Arthur. He sighed, trying to concentrate on the lesson, but totally failing at it. 

Lance was in the classroom with him, making Merlin feel oddly conspicuous. It was as though they had dated and broken up, even though Merlin had never even once alluded to the possibility of romance between them. It was all Lance’s fault, and Merlin truly wished that the whole affair hadn’t happened.

Lance, of course, didn’t talk to him, and Merlin just focused on avoiding eye contact. It was bizarre, really, how one could go from not really thinking too hard about someone, only occasionally talking to that person, and then have everything transform from average regard to intense disregard over the span of a few seconds. Now, Merlin put more energy into avoiding Lance than he did into talking to his parents, a slightly disconcerting fact. 

Time moved slowly, but it did move.

10:25 finally rolled around, and Merlin practically ran to the stairwell for the roof. He was trying to be discreet; like Arthur had said the other day, they weren’t technically supposed to be on the roof, but it was an excellent place to be secluded away from other people. 

Arthur wasn’t there yet when he got there, which was slightly disappointing. Merlin had planned on immediately being in his presence, on the gratification of finally ending the suspense between them and discovering what it was they had going on. He spent his time instead looking at the view, the sun shining and the city abuzz. 

Finally, he heard the noise of the door behind him, and turned around to greet Arthur with a smile.

He immediately knew something was very, very wrong.

Arthur looked unhappy, upset. His face was gaunt and slightly pale, his normally well-kept appearances slightly sloppy and his body language reserved. This wasn’t normal.

“Arthur. What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, unsure of whether to hug him or avoid eye-contact. It suddenly occurred to him that they really didn’t know each other very well at all, that he and Arthur were hardly more than acquaintances who just happened to read the same books and shared a mutual interest in kissing each other.

“I have to tell you something.” There was something grim about the set of Arthur’s jaw as he said it, coming up to stand beside Merlin, a good foot of space between them. 

“Please.” Merlin was starting to feel squeezed with his desire to do something, to tell Arthur something to take that dark look off his face. He wanted badly to touch him, but was too afraid to actually do it. The stormy color of his eyes was driving a wedge between them, keeping Merlin firmly locked to the rail beside him.

“When I got home last night, my father announced to me that I will be leaving for Italy. This weekend.”

Merlin felt his mouth open, but no words came out.

“I’ve been working on gaining an apprenticeship at a certain academy there for months now, and it seems that the master has accepted my application. The thing is, he wants me to start right away, at the start of next week.”

“What about school?” Merlin heard himself say the words, but he couldn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. He desperately wanted to say something more along the lines of, _what about us?_ but he suddenly realized that there really was no “us” when it came to him and Arthur.

“The program is through the school, and even though they placed most students for such prodigious positions long before now, I thought I had been rejected from the program and I’d pretty much given up on it. Well, there’s been an opening and my father told me this is it. If I’m serious about this, he wants me to do it now. I think he’s testing me.” Arthur sighed, and looked away. “And I want to do it. I really, really do.”

“How long?” 

Arthur looked back at Merlin, and Merlin could see there was a kind of quiet, resigned misery in his expression.

“Two months.”

Merlin could feel himself cringe. _Two months_. Merlin felt himself crumble as he realized that all of the potential of the last three days would leave with Arthur. _This isn't how the story's supposed to go_. 

“If I fail out or lose interest, then I’m bound to choose what my father wants me to do, or at least look into it more seriously. But if I succeed, I’ll be allowed to pursue further study and they might even let me move to Italy.” Arthur said quietly, and Merlin felt his heart sink more.

“When do you leave.” Merlin asked numbly.

“Tomorrow evening.”

“That’s…” Merlin took a breath, and exhaled a breathy laugh, trying desperately not to let his disappointment show. “Amazing, Arthur. It’s amazing.”

“Merlin…” Arthur said quietly, looking at his feet. “This wasn’t my plan. I can’t believe it’s happening. I wanted to say no on the spot, because in light of recent events, I couldn’t even imagine leaving for that long.” Merlin could feel himself blushing, and it only got worse when Arthur looked up and met his eyes. “But I have to do this. I have to prove something to myself, and I have been so desperate for this possibility for so long. I need to show that I’m capable of making a career out of this skill. That I have the talent to do this. It’s my _life_ , Merlin.”

The words hung between them. They had both keyed into the secret language below Arthur’s words; he wanted to go because he’d always wanted to go, and he couldn’t afford to consider Merlin as part of the decision process. Merlin felt that he had no right place in Arthur’s life in the reality of it all, and Arthur had no rational reason to make a space for Merlin. Yet, Merlin couldn’t stifle the feeling of betrayal underneath all of his logical reasoning. He knew it was selfish, particularly given the circumstances of their relationship (friendship?) being so new, but the feeling was still there, cutting through every argument. After all, Arthur had only known him three real days, even if there had been some kind of strange book-reading competition between them before that. Furthermore, Arthur had been working towards this goal for a very long time and who was Merlin to stand in the way?

Only three days. Definitely not long enough.

But this wasn’t about him. He swallowed hard and smiled as best he could.

“You know you have to do it.” He said, trying to sound encouraging. “You have to pursue this, Arthur. This is one of those once-in-a-lifetime chances. Besides, two months isn’t that long.”

Arthur was silent, gripping the handrail and Merlin struggled to say anything else that wouldn’t give him away.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” Merlin said lightly. “Probably reading a book or something, you know me.”

His intended levity got lost in the feeling of despair that actually laced his words. Merlin could hardly bare the stasis of his life, the crushing sameness of it all.

“Merlin,” Arthur turned to him suddenly and hugged him, his arms going around Merlin’s waist and his cheek resting on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I could change this. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Merlin held on to Arthur and said nothing, because he had nothing left to say. Nothing productive. 

They stayed that way for a minute or so. Merlin just let Arthur breathe against him, comforted by the steadiness and willing it to stay. It was just like every other time he and Arthur had been together: the illusion of security, of uncompromising promise.

The bell rang distantly, and Merlin cringed slightly at the sound, Arthur tensing and pulling away. The moment was gone, and Merlin inexplicably felt like he had only just woken up. It was as though the morning had been part of that blessed dream which had haunted him when he woke up in his soft sheets only hours before. Real, breathtaking, and yet, only a fantasy.

All because the irrevocable had been painfully and completely revocable.

 

No exam that day.

The only thing Merlin really concentrated on for the rest of the day was finding Gwen and telling her that they needed to talk that night, that this was slightly an emergency (it was an emergency, but he didn’t want to panic her) and that he needed help. She agreed readily, her usual humorous self melting away under Merlin’s slightly frantic look.

Before they had parted, Arthur had told Merlin that there was no way they would be able to meet tonight. He was stuck desperately packing, his father insisting that he see no friends until everything was ready for the flight the following evening.

Which royally sucked.

Lance sat in front of Merlin in another of their shared classes in the afternoon, and Merlin couldn’t help but stare at the back of his head and think, _so this is what he feels like_. Not that Merlin had been on the receiving end of Arthur’s rejection per se, but this feeling he had was certainly some kind of rejection. Even if it was essentially forced rejection, circumstances beyond control, etc., Merlin still felt the hurt of it as he went through the day, silently mourning for all the times with Arthur he wasn’t going to have in the following two months. The only thing that matched this emotion for his attention was the great burden of his own inadequacy in the face of Arthur’s success, a feeling that shocked him with the force of its agency over him.

 _I suppose Arthur won’t be playing in his concert next Tuesday,_ Merlin thought depressingly. _Add it to the list of things we won’t be doing together_.

Really, life was looking worse than gray from where Merlin stood; it was looking downright shabby, not a morsel of it appealing to him in any way. It was appropriate, then, that it should be raining lightly when Merlin left school; even though he usually loathed the wet season, it was startlingly comforting to know that the weather was just as turbulent as he was feeling.

His family didn’t really help matters.

The moment he walked in the house, he slammed the door and went to his room. There was only one thing he wanted to do: read a book and lose consciousness to the real world for a while. To get lost, because being alive was just really tricky at the moment, and it would be best if he just stepped out for some fresh air, thank you very much.

He was out of his uniform in a flash, the humid post-summer air making him feel prickly and smothered. He went to wash his face, to snap himself out of the mood, to somehow cleanse him of the stormy thoughts that refused to leave him in peace, a peace that seemed almost too distant to even bother pursuing.

Of course, this was when Will came home.

“Merlin!” He immediately shouted. “You could at least hang up your uniform instead of leaving it on the floor in a heap. You are the most incompetent person I know…” Merlin tuned him out, trying desperately not to lose his temper. There was no reason to blow up at Will right now for something that he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

“I’m getting to it.” He simply grumbled back, going to pick up the uniform just to appease Will.

“I’d really appreciate if you took into consideration that I also live in this incredibly small space. Or if you took anything into consideration, really, seeing as you seem to live in some other world most of the time.”

Merlin just scowled at him and went to find a good book. Will had not finished yet. 

“Please, don’t even bother asking if I need anything done to start dinner. Just go ahead and read and pretend I don’t exist because you can’t be bothered to be responsible.”

Merlin couldn’t just tune it out anymore.

“Right, because you do so much. Laundry! Cooking! God, what excruciatingly hard work that must be! I can’t even imagine!” Merlin said, dropping his book on the desk.

“You wouldn’t know, seeing as you’ve never done laundry ever in your whole life!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit. You know as well as I do that I’ve done laundry before. This is about your stupid, ever-growing complex that you’re _literally the only one_ who knows how to do work and you have to keep the house going, etc., etc.”

“I do keep the house going, and you don’t seem to realize that! What if I were to move out? Mom’s too busy to worry about you having clean knickers. Dad’s a space case with no discipline whatsoever, and you! You’re a useless waste of oxygen these days! What’s more, you don’t even seem to care! What are you going to do with your life, write silly stories all day and look dreamily at sunsets? You need to focus! You need to figure shit out, because frankly, you’re headed down a dead end road! I only wish I had someone to discipline me in high school. God knows you need it.”

“Just SHUT UP, would you? Shut the fuck up!” Merlin felt like pulling his hair out. “You don’t know anything about me! You’re a selfish prick and I don’t have time for this conversation. I’m going to Gwen’s. Don’t expect me back for dinner.”

Will just stood there huffing and watched Merlin gather his things and leave. 

“Go on, Merlin, just leave. Since you’re so good at it.”

Merlin left without another word.

 

Gwen’s house was only about 10 minutes walk from Merlin’s apartment complex, but it felt like far too long.

He could practically feel the steam coming off his skin as he let Will’s words turn over and over in his head. 

Merlin knew he was useless. He knew that there was really no explicit purpose in his life, and Will knew it, too. Even though Will normally gave him a hard time about his lifestyle choices, Merlin had felt something snap this time. Some kind of dam of resentment had been opened, and Will’s outburst was just yet another reason to list under the category of why Merlin’s life sucked so much.

The truth of what Will had said hurt the most. He knew that he was right about Merlin’s lack of focus. Merlin couldn’t fathom deciding on one thing to do for the rest of his life; he had a passion for passion, not for discipline like Will had said.

It made him think of just how different he and Arthur actually were. Arthur wanted to do one thing, and be excellent at it. Merlin had no idea what he wanted to do, but excellence had never been his priority. He had never thought specifically about pure talent, and now that he saw Arthur’s example, he wondered why it had never occurred to him before.

Gwen’s house looked quiet in the late afternoon sunlight, sitting like a safe haven away from all the despair of the day. Merlin jogged up the steps and knocked on the door, eager to escape the demons of his solitary thoughts.

“Merlin!” Gwen answered the door. “Come in. I was just putting on some tea.”

“Thanks, Gwen. That sounds great.”

Merlin walked into Gwen’s dimly lit hall, the air conditioning offering a beautiful respite from the muggy outdoors. The Smith’s were well off, living in a spacious house with ornate decorations and luxuries such as air conditioning and pets.

Gwen’s dog, Addy, greeted him as he entered the kitchen. She was a small white Maltese, and Merlin found it incredibly soothing to pet her head and just enjoy the great excitement overflowing from such a small body.

Once they had settled in Gwen’s plush and pink room with tea and biscuits, Gwen tentatively asked him what was up.

“What’s the emergency, then?” She looked at him with wide, cautious eyes. Merlin loved her for being so kind, and he felt a pang of guilt for worrying her. “What’s going on?”

“I feel terrible keeping you in the dark, but a lot has happened in the past three days. Looking back on it now, I wasn’t even entirely aware of what was happening until today.”

Merlin told her most of the story, excluding Lance from the equation, and slightly downplaying his infatuation with Arthur. It was all so intensely new and personal, that he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her. Still, it was such a relief to be able to say things out loud, making them more real to him and grounding him slightly.

“Wow.” Gwen said after he was finished telling her miserably about Arthur’s forthcoming departure. “So that’s it? He’s just leaving?”

“God, I hope it’s not the end. I don’t know what I’ll do if he just disappears on me forever.” Merlin said, worry already gnawing at his belly.

“He sounds pretty dedicated, so I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Gwen said, patting his hand consolingly. “And Merlin, what an opportunity! You’ll be able to talk to each other still, maybe write letters or something, and you can encourage each other all through his journey in Italy! It might seem terrible now, but you can grow so much through it.”

Merlin picked morosely at his biscuit. “Yeah, that would be perfect, if I were doing something worth encouraging. That’s the thing, Gwen; he’s moving on to this fantastic experience, something that will really change him forever, and I’m going to be here, listening to Will scold me and scraping by in school. I don’t think I can encourage someone who’s succeeding more than I am.”

Gwen made a face of thoughtfulness. “It does seem disappointing, but Merlin, life won’t be totally lost on you. You’ll still have your friends, and classes will surely be at least a little interesting. Maybe you could still use the time to do something useful, something that will aid in your own self-discovery process.”

Merlin sipped at his tea, pondering. Arthur was going to seek talent, experience; maybe, just maybe, Merlin could do the same.

“You’re right, Gwen. Just because I’m not going to Italy doesn’t mean I can’t dedicate myself to something.” Merlin sat up a little straighter. “I’ve always wanted to write something really good, a story. A novel.”

“You’d be superb at that,” Gwen said, nodding approvingly. “Everyone loved your lyrics, like I said. You have a talent with words.”

Merlin actually smiled for the first time in hours. “I’ll write a story, and I’ll see if I have talent, just like Arthur.”

“But you should consider writing to him every once in a while, as well.” Gwen insisted, her cheeks turning slightly red. “That’s what I was hoping to do with Lance, during exam period. I wanted someone to share the stress with, and I still believe it would have helped.”

Merlin blanched slightly at the sound of Lance’s name. He really did consider telling her again, just as he always did when they were talking. It felt like a lie not to tell her, but he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking her heart when there was absolutely no reason to.

No reason, yet.

After a quiet dinner with Gwen’s family, Merlin walked home in the quiet twilight to his miserable flat. The waning light invigorated him, though; and even though Will’s sarcastic comment about staring dreamily at sunsets niggled at him, he couldn’t help but bask in the light, absorbing it into his soul and letting it fuel his plans, his thoughts, his goals.

He was walking down a basically deserted street when he saw a cat dart out into the road in front of him. 

“Moon…” he said quietly, and the cat stared at him for a second or two before gracefully slipping away into the darkness.

“Muta!!” called a young boy, appearing soon after Moon had disappeared. “Muta, where are you?”

“Muta?” Merlin said softly, smiling slightly to himself. It must be nice to have so many different names, so many identities. Merlin imagined that Moon had been to thousands of different homes, had so many different places he could be, but he still found solace in the escaping part, the leaving. Another reason he and Merlin were so similar, despite Arthur’s protests…

Muta gave him even more to think about, the story unwinding in his mind and playing out behind his eyelids.

That night, even as Will slept, Merlin planned, taking out a fresh notebook and beginning to scribble out his story, the characters and plot coming together in his mind as he thought and worked and let the darkness insulate his little world, his desk lamp creating a small glimmer of light that was all his own space.


	10. Penlight Gems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter where he goes, Merlin can't seem to escape his own aching head. But he'll continue to try anyway.

Merlin really hadn’t slept.

It started out innocently enough; he had intended on writing a bit before going to bed, and that would be that. But writing for a bit turned into the greater part of the night, giving him very little time to sleep before Will was messing about and shouting for him to wake up.

He felt oddly light and happy, though, even with the ever-present weight of Arthur’s departure at the back of his mind. The story he had in his head was enough to nourish him, to keep him absolutely occupied, and provide him with just a little bit of light to battle the darkness of the coming two months.

Gwen was in his classes that day, so he also had her amiable company to keep him distracted. It was a bit challenging to focus on her (or anything really) with everything swirling around in his brain, but he stayed as in-tune as he could, the world around him only occasionally shifting into the world of his story, his thoughts absorbing his observations like a sponge in a puddle of water.

Lunch was the only really trying part of the day.

They sometimes ate lunch in the cafeteria, but most days, their group ate in Mr. Gaius’ large office. It was furnished with a table and chairs that offered them an excellent place to be away from their peers for a while, and Merlin very much viewed it as a safe haven from the rest of the crazy world.

Not today, though. Like usual, it was Gwaine’s fault.

This time, it wasn’t his endless prattle or limitless capacity to irritate Elena that ruined things. No, it was the person he brought with him when he found Merlin and the others at the table.

Merlin could feel the blood drain from his face when Lance sat down with a slightly apologetic glance in his direction.

 _Oh, bloody hell_ , he thought to himself, immediately lowering his eyes to the small packed lunch in front of him. He really did not have the patience for this, not today of all days. Not when Arthur was leaving the country in literally hours and his lack of sleep was quickly catching up to him, making him feel more than just grumpy and irritable, but downright fed up with everything.

He snuck a glance at Gwen sitting across the table from him and next to Elena, who thankfully acted as a convenient buffer between Gwen and Lance. Her face had turned a dark shade of red, and she was looking at her food with no small amount of concentration. 

Merlin silently regretted not having told Gwaine about the whole affair earlier.

“Everyone, Lance is sitting with us today because we have PE right after this and I figured he might as well sit with someone, seeing as he is otherwise friendless.” Gwaine announced, apparently completely unaware of the havoc he was wreaking across the table.

Elena rolled her eyes. “Surely a handsome man such as Lance can get along without your assistance, Gwaine.”

“He wishes he could! Look at him, shy as a mouse and with barely enough confidence to speak to me, let alone the rest of the school.” Gwaine slapped an arm across Lance’s shoulders and Lance grimaced in response.

“Funny, Gwaine.” Lance said weakly, and Gwaine just smirked at him and continued to bicker with Elena.

The lunch went on. Merlin kept looking at Gwen, trying to assess her mood, but mostly he focused on A) feeling extremely sorry for himself, B) hating Gwaine, and C) wishing he were anywhere else in the world then at that table.

“So, Merlin.” Merlin looked up with alarm when Lance began speaking to him. “How’d you do on exams?”

“Fine, I suppose.” Merlin answered tightly, wondering what the hell was going on. “I’m glad to be almost through with them.”

Lance nodded his head. “Same. Now just to study a bit more and get good grades, I guess.”

Merlin tried not to wince at the awkwardness of it all. Instead, he just smiled weakly and tried hard to will his body to teleport him to some other place, _any other place._

Luckily, Gwaine and Elena started throwing food at each other just at that moment, providing just enough distraction for Merlin to turn his attention away from Lance and start to desperately strike up a conversation with Gwen.

“So how is the chorus doing with the song, Gwen?” he asked, trying to chase away the tension headache quickly forming around his neck and shoulders and head and, well, everywhere.

“They’re fine.” Gwen said blandly, picking at her food some more. “Smashing.”

Merlin just nodded, giving up on her. She was obviously content to hide behind the feuding Elena and Gwaine and pretend that she was invisible, something Merlin didn’t have the luxury of doing with Lance’s inquiring eyes boring a hole into the side of his skull and—

“You know what?” Merlin stood up suddenly. “I don’t feel well at all. I’m going to the nurse’s office.”

Everyone stopped moving and looked at him, his practically untouched lunch, and his pale face. Gwaine seemed to actually see him for the first time all day.

“Yeah, mate, you look pretty bad. Everything all right?”

“I’m fine.” Merlin said, already moving towards the trash cans to throw away his food. “Just need a bit of air, and I figured I might try to get some painkillers from the nurse. Only a headache, you know.”

Elena looked at him sorrowfully and Gwen didn’t look at him at all. Lance just nodded his head.

“Alright, feel better.” Gwaine said, chipper again. “See you later.”

“Bye.” Merlin left quickly, closing the door to the small room with great haste as he left. 

He felt a morsel of guilt for leaving Gwen behind in that room with Lance before his feelings of relief outweighed any kind of regret he could have had.

He had an absolutely pounding headache by this point, and he realized that the stress of everything was too much for him. In the classic style of his parents, he decided the best thing to do with the adversity was to forget about it. He was going to bury it underneath distraction, let it worm its way out slowly again and deal with it when it finally emerged on another day in the unforeseeable future.

When he walked out of school and ran down a nearby alley, he didn’t bother to look back.

 

He honestly didn’t know what he was thinking, but his feet apparently had a plan and he let them lead the way.

It was a familiar path now, and he was hardly aware of where he was going until he was ascending the steep flight of steps, the ones that led to the roads behind the rest of the world, the ones that led to _The Great Dragon_.

Merlin knew that Arthur would still be in school, seeing as he was a model-A student, unlike himself. Either that, or he would be at his actual house packing his things, a much more probable circumstance. He certainly wouldn’t be sitting in the basement of Kilgharrah’s place making violins. He certainly wouldn’t be outside the door petting Moon absently in the light of the mid-afternoon sun.

In some ways, that was the worst thing in the world, but Merlin also felt a shred of relief. He wanted to see Arthur, badly; but at the same time, he was afraid. It was the same feeling he got when looking at those romantic sunsets he was so fond of; the great brightness filled him up, leaving him equal parts pleasure and sorrow at its closing, its grand finale before _the end._

Merlin knew it wasn’t really the end of Arthur, but he also knew it was utter crap to call his leaving a beginning. Yeah, sure, it was the beginning of an adventure, but it was also a very lonely path he was facing, and Arthur was facing. They had both been assigned solo missions, and he just couldn’t deal with that.

Luckily for him, the door to _The Dragon_ was open, the Golden Pig of Great Majesty sitting in the doorway and propping the door. Merlin slowed as he came to the threshold, stepping over it with delicacy lest he disturb the peace of the place with his noisy entrance.

It was almost silent in the shop, the only noticeable sound the distant chatter of birds from someplace outside. Merlin could smell tea being brewed from someplace within, though, so he took heart and made his way through the maze of antique goods.

When he got to the back rooms, he saw Kilgharrah bent over the stove with a steaming kettle. Merlin was suddenly afraid of scaring him, so he tried to be as gentle as possible and knocked on the doorframe of the room.

Kilgharrah still jumped a little, but Merlin supposed that couldn’t have been helped.

“Merlin!” Kilgharrah said warmly, his face lighting up with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you! But I suppose I never am, and then you show up anyway. It’s a delight, though, always a delight.”

“I’m sorry to drop in on you so unexpectedly,” Merlin said apologetically. “I just needed to speak with someone and you seemed like a good choice.”

Kilgharrah’s face darkened with concern. “What is it that’s bothering you? Care for a cup of tea?”

Merlin bit his lip and nodded. He really appreciated that Kilgharrah hadn’t asked him why he wasn’t in school, or why he had come to the antique shop so randomly and without definite purpose. No, it seemed enough that Merlin looked distressed, as though Kilgharrah could read that he was already feeling defensive and wouldn’t appreciate the questions.

They sat down a few minutes later with steaming cups of tea, the world seeming a little less belligerent to Merlin as he relaxed into the smell of the liquid and the feel of the steam rising from it.

“Now, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?” Kilgharrah asked serenely, taking his own cup into hand with its saucer.

Merlin came up with the first thing he could think of.

“I want to write a story.” He said, and his tone almost dared Kilgharrah to laugh at him. Luckily, he didn’t laugh, so Merlin pressed on. “And I want to write about the Baron. Arthur told me he was important to you, and after hearing your story about how you bought him, I couldn’t possibly presume to write about him without permission first.”

Kilgharrah _did_ laugh at that, but it was a warm chuckle, and Merlin felt glad at the sound of it.

“Of course, of course. You don’t need permission, although I appreciate you seeking it. I am more than happy to share Baron with you, and I’m delighted you would want to use him. But…” Kilgharrah stopped, his eyes shining. “I do have a condition, though. I would like to be the first to read your story.”

Merlin felt his eyes grow wider. A panicky feeling rose up in his stomach, and he knew it was because this would mean a contract. This would mean that he would be held responsible for his writing—this would no longer be about pleasing just himself. It was one thing to write for the sake of writing; it was another thing entirely to write for the sake of reading, for the sake of making someone else understand.

“I’m not sure,” he said hesitantly, swirling his tea around in his cup. “I want to say yes. But part of me is afraid, because I can’t guarantee that the story will be finished.”

“A natural fear,” Kilgharrah replied. “But that does not mean you should give up right away. And it does not have to be perfect.”

“I want to create something admirable, though,” Merlin persisted, his voice spiked with the determination behind it. “I want to be like Arthur. I want to show that I have what it takes, that I have the talent to make this happen.”

Kilgharrah put down his tea and got up slowly, holding up a finger to indicate that Merlin be still. His old bones creaked slightly as he walked across the room purposefully to a cupboard in the corner, opening a door and taking out a small rock from within.

“I want to show you this,” he said as he came back to the table, handing Merlin the stone. “This stone is mica slate. It seems average and standard, but look more closely.”

Merlin held the stone gently in both hands and peered at it. Indeed, it looked like any other sedimentary rock, save for a small crevice travelling down the center and branching out slightly on the sides. In the crevice was a glimmering, green gem that only shimmered slightly in the light from the window. Merlin looked at it closely, trying to distinguish whether it was actually there or just a trick of his eyes.

Kilgharrah produced a small penlight from somewhere on his person and clicked it on. Merlin expected him to shine it directly on the stone to reveal more of the green gem beneath, but instead, he held it beneath the stone and moved it in a circular motion.

And suddenly, the stone seemed to open up and everything was _green_.

Merlin stared at it, transfixed by how the light filtered through the sparkling stone and gave it an intense depth, like there was a small world within the bulky and completely un-extraordinary stone.

He closed one eye and looked at it closer, leaning towards the stone and wishing he could just surround himself with the brilliant colors, forgetting everything but the radiance that shined through the dark walls of stone.

Kilgharrah turned off the pen light far too soon, and Merlin sighed at the loss.

“It’s amazing,” he breathed, gripping the stone a little more between his two hands, afraid his sudden discovery would be lost.

“It’s called ‘beryl.’ You might recognize its shade as emerald; it’s found in emerald ore.”

Kilgharrah sat back down and looked at Merlin in a curious way, a certain fondness in his old eyes that Merlin couldn’t quite place.

“You and Arthur are so alike,” he said quietly, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “You’re like two sides of the same coin. You both want exactly the same thing, and you both know it, but you have to follow different paths to find it.”

Merlin swallowed and said nothing.

“You are both like this stone. You’re just starting out; you’re unpolished and have never applied yourself to one thing before. Rough, natural. I like that about both of you; you are still so excited about everything. Life has not drained you. You view it as a challenge.

“But making things, whether those things are violins or stories, is different. The potential is like that stone, too. It’s rough and unhewn and the gem inside needs to be sought after and polished. That’s where the work comes in; you have to dedicate yourself to the search for that gem, that something that makes a normal thing into a beautiful, meaningful thing. You see the ore of that stone, the darkness?”

Merlin nodded, feeling like his heart was being lain out before him.

“You could polish it, and try to make it beautiful. You could work away at it all day and still, you’d have something worthless. The smaller gem is much more pure and is worth very much. Below that might be something even greater if it could be extracted. It has to be found, Merlin. It has to be sought after.”

Merlin stared at the stone, silent.

“I’m sorry, I tend to talk too much.” Kilgharrah laughed slightly, rubbing the back of his head. “I wish I could speak more plainly to you, but you have to learn. Hopefully you will forgive my rambling.”

Merlin breathed deeply and spoke.

“I’m scared. What if I work away, like you said, and what I end up with is worthless? What if I look hard and find nothing?”

Kilgharrah said nothing, just looked at Merlin with a sad something in his eyes and on his lips.

“I want to write, though.” Merlin suddenly said ferociously, his tone fierce with his anger and frustration but mostly with his hope that he would succeed, that he would make this happen. “I want to prove something. And I have to try, so I promise you. You’ll be the first to read it.”

“Thank you.” Kilgharrah said softly. “I appreciate it.”

 

The school day had ended by the time Merlin left Kilgharrah’s, his head still aching slightly, but his energy a little higher. He didn’t bother to think of the consequences of his skipping yet; it seemed better to leave that for later, too, and he added it to his mental list of Things Which He Could Not Possibly Handle Until Later. Merlin had a mission; he had to get to the library and begin his escape from everything dismal, to begin his research that would support his world.

As he walked, he couldn’t resist the pull of the story anymore.

“A stone…” Merlin whispered to himself. “A precious stone. Emerald. Crystal…”

_The world before him transformed, giant islands floating in the air before him, the wind rushing around him. Baron stood beside him and speculated the world with some disdain, an appraising look in his eye._

_“It will be rough,” he said, and Merlin could see that was an oversimplification. The sky was torrid with the wind, and Merlin didn’t even bother to wonder how the islands floated because it was obvious that they were carried on the updraft that whirled around them both. “I believe we can ride it, though. We can ride the wind.”_

_“Impossible,” Merlin said, his eyes wide. “There’s no way. We’ll be blown away, uncontrolled!”_

_“Merlin, you know better than me that we have to try.” Baron pleaded, his green eyes full of worry. “You know what is at stake here. Let us go forth together in search of the Crystal Cave!”_

_Merlin did know. They had to get to the Valley of the Fallen Kings before it was too late. They had to find the cave, the crystal cave, the place where it would all be revealed…_

_So, without another thought, they stepped off the edge together._

_The wind did carry them, rushing beneath them and lifting them suddenly up, up, up, far above the islands floating now beneath them, far above the glimmering world, towards the place where he knew he would find the answer to why he no longer had magic. Why everything was a disaster…_

Merlin sighed as he entered the library, his thoughts put on hold again as the closed space made him feel claustrophobic with the sudden smallness of it. He had a mission, though. He had to find the books on beryl, he had to know more about the gem so he could furnish his world with it. The cave would need something magical inside it, and gems would work perfectly for his vision. Emerald would have to make an appearance.

The non-fiction section was not his normal section, but Merlin perused carefully, searching through the shelves until he had gathered an armful of books about precious stones and magic stones, about violins and royalty, books about anything that would apply to his story at all.

He laid them all out on a long stretch of table and started reading, taking careful notes and even drawing out little diagrams. He filled page after page with the thoughts crashing around in his head, igniting inspiration after inspiration as he read and thought and put together…

Suddenly, he got stuck on something, and sat back in his chair to think. There was only one book left that he hadn’t looked through yet, and he poked it open absently with the tip of his pencil.

The pages fluttered and Merlin quickly realized that this was one of the books he had taken not about gemstones, but about violin making. As he flipped, he came upon a picture of a lonely man carving a violin, only a spare amount of light filtering onto him from somewhere above his dark and lonely corner.

 _Prisoner crafting a violin_ , the caption read, and Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat.

Because it was so much like an Arthur thing to do, the determination to keep going even when all odds were against him, the steadfastness of making something beautiful because that was the only thing that held him together. The man looked sad, lonely, but he also looked hopeful if only fractionally, like the light was reminding him that there still was a world out there. 

It was strange how attached Merlin suddenly felt to the man in the picture. Like he was the most pitiable person he’d ever seen, but also the most beautiful. 

The book intrigued him enough so that he flipped through it more, looking at the other pictures with equal consciousness of how much they all reminded him of Arthur, even if there was no other similarity beyond that they all held partially-crafted violins and were all male.

He started writing again, more pieces beginning to come together. He sat at the table and worked away, people moving around him and making noise. He couldn’t hear any of it though, not really; it was all in the background compared to the words right in front of him, the lead tip of his pencil scratching away.

He was only vaguely aware that someone had sat down in front of him.

He only bothered to look up when he suddenly realized the warm body across from him was no stranger.

He looked up slowly, willing what he thought was nothing more than his imagination to be the truth.

Arthur stopped reading the book he was holding (the prat, figures he would pretend not to notice Merlin instead of being normal and talking to him) and looked at Merlin with a grin.

“Arthur!” Merlin said loudly, and then was very aware of the fact that they were in a library when three people shushed him. “Arthur.” He said more softly. “What are you doing here? How are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane right now?”

Arthur smiled. “Grandfather told me this is where you were headed. I have three hours until my flight, so I thought I would pay you a visit.”

Merlin smiled back, only slightly self-conscious of the fact that his cheeks were suddenly burning and his heart had definitely sped up. “Nice of you to think of me, seeing as you’re about to be a worldly traveller and all.”

“Very worldly,” Arthur said, his eyes twinkling. “I just…” Arthur’s voice suddenly became low and serious. “I just wanted to make sure I got to see you again. Before I left and all.”

Merlin looked steadfastly at his books, swallowing hard. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He said stiffly, trying not to let himself break from it all.

“So polite all of a sudden,” Arthur murmured softly, and Merlin looked up, smiling a little. “You would straighten up right before I left. I’m not surprised at all.”

Merlin shot him a skeptical look. “Yeah, because I’m the one who needs to work on manners, Mr. I-Read-Other-People’s-Things-And-Make-Fun-Of-Them.”

“You know, it is really a chore having such a long name.” Arthur said, sighing. “Thinking about changing it.”

“I would.”

“…Says the man named ‘Merlin.’”

“Oh, making fun of my name, are you? There goes your last shot at decency.” Merlin scolded, tutting slightly.

“I’ve never been decent. And I never will be.” Arthur said richly with his most arrogant smile. Merlin had to try hard to resist the shiver that threatening to rattle his shoulders as goosebumps appeared on his skin. 

“Good to know, then.” Merlin replied, stacking his books with efficiency to keep himself distracted. 

“I wish I had more time,” Arthur said suddenly, and Merlin looked at him just in time to see the intensity of the bitterness in his eyes.

“You’ll have a grand time in Cremona, though.” Merlin said, standing up and gathering his books. “So long as you don’t forget about me.”

He tried to make it a joke, but it was the main thing that weighed on his mind throughout the day, the night, the thing that haunted him as he thought about the next months of Arthurless-ness.

“I couldn’t forget about you.” Arthur said, and Merlin couldn’t laugh at him for once. His tone was sincere, begging for trust. “I couldn’t even try.”

Merlin nodded. “I feel the same way.”

Arthur didn’t make fun of him, either.

They made their way out of the library and down towards Merlin’s house. It was sad to think that there was no place for them to go to be together, and even if they had had a place, they certainly didn’t have time. Arthur had to leave so soon, within the next half hour, and Merlin regretted the fact once again that they hardly knew each other, certainly not well enough for him to go to the airport and see Arthur off properly. 

Dusk had fallen by the time they got outside, and the streetlamps were beginning to come on, the artificial light shining brighter than the weak sunlight streaming the last bits of its finale over the hills and into the air, almost completely gone.

They stopped walking when they came to the crossroads between the roads leading to their homes. 

“Merlin…” Arthur started, and Merlin was suddenly terrified of the words, the inevitable cease of something that was so new and fresh that it almost seemed like it hadn’t happened at all.

“Arthur, don’t say it.” He said, his headache returning and sickening him. “Don’t say goodbye.”

It sounded stupid to his own ears; he kept reminding himself that this wasn’t a goodbye, that it was only two months, that it was only painful because their friendship, their _relationship_ was so new and extraordinary.

“I wasn’t going to,” Arthur said teasingly, his tone striking a heavy contrast with the angelic appearance the lamplight from above them gave him. “I wouldn’t say goodbye to _you_.”

He was suddenly very close to Merlin, and the only thing that separated them was the barrier of books that Merlin was holding tightly to his chest. He knew that they shouldn’t be so close in public, not when, as Gwen said, the ‘eyes of the school were everywhere’ but Merlin couldn’t resist Arthur in any way. They were so close that Merlin could smell him, the now familiar scent of Arthur’s fresh and clean aroma, the warmth of the air that they mutually breathed.

Arthur’s grin turned a little more sober and he glanced around quickly. He seemed satisfied by the lack of people in the area, and before Merlin knew entirely what was happening Arthur was kissing him, taking both sides of Merlin’s face into his hands. It was a soft kiss, but it was also brief, if not also a bit of a promise.

“I’ll miss you.” Merlin suddenly said, realizing it was the first time he had admitted it out loud. “I’ll miss you a helluva lot.”

“You don’t even know,” Arthur whispered between them. “After all that time of reading your books and seeing you in the library…and we only ended up having three days together. Three fucking days.”

Merlin suddenly felt shy, too afraid to ask what this was but too afraid not to, too.

“It’s only two months.” He said instead, the twin fears battling in his head. “Make sure to write.”

“I will.” Arthur said, stepping back resignedly. “I will regale you with all the details.”

“Good luck.” Merlin said, smiling as brightly as he could.

“And to you.” Arthur said, and before Merlin quite realized it, Arthur was walking away and was out of sight, and even though Merlin knew he had only just crested the hill and was still no more than feet away, it felt like he was already gone, out of the country, having slipped through Merlin’s fingers and back into the ether of Merlin’s dreams where he came from.

There was nothing else for it but to go back home, to that terrible prison of his house, and write.


	11. Dead Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could polish it, and try to make it beautiful. You could work away at it all day and still, you’d have something worthless. The smaller gem is much more pure and is worth very much. Below that might be something even greater if it could be extracted. It has to be found, Merlin. It has to be sought after.”

_Week One._

_"I and my betrothed,” he whispered softly, and it was not difficult to tell that he was struggling. “We were very much in love before the time of the Great Purge. It was a different world back then, and magic was practiced everywhere and anywhere. Love bound everything together, and there was very little evil.”_

_The Baron’s eyes held something small and dear, something powerful that couldn’t be identified as anything other than great sorrow for something very much beloved._

_“We were made to be lovers.” He continued. “We were crafted that way, held by a kind of fate to always be together, a fate that the craftsman had intended._

_“Everything changed when the King’s bitterness at the loss of his wife transformed magic into a sin. We all suffered, and I was forced to go to war, forced to face the great armies that sought to vanquish anything and everything magical._

_“It was no use. His powers outnumbered us, and I watched so many people I loved die. I watched the world deteriorate before me…”_

“Merlin!” 

_“The King attacked with great force, sending us into hiding; and that was when I discovered the crystal cave, the place of absolute power…”_

“Merlin!!”

Merlin looked up, blinking hard. What seemed like millions of eyes looked back at him, waiting for him, and at the head of the room, the teacher was looking expectantly in his direction.

“What’s going on, Emrys? Are you here at all today?” the teacher said, and Merlin felt his cheeks get hot, his head buzzing with the sound of tittering laughter and whispers of the other students around him.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, sitting up straight. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Obviously!” The teacher snapped impatiently. “You should have been! This is important, and will certainly appear on examinations in the future. Smith, please read from the passage about quadratic formulas.”

Merlin could feel his whole body sinking in his chair as Gwen sat up and read the desired passage. The room was still focused on him, on his failure, but he was still lost in the Baron’s words. Everything was slightly jarring and disorienting.

Arthur had only been gone a week, but Merlin was already making great headway on the story. It was starting to form into real sentences and he had already filled a large portion of his notebook with actual exposition and dialogue, not just brainstorming. 

He could tell Gwen was worried about him. When they got out of class for lunch (it was a nice day, so they sat together alone, somewhat to Merlin’s relief) she brought it up almost immediately.

“Merlin, you really don’t seem healthy.” She said, her face heavy with concern. “You should be sleeping more. When did you go to bed last night?”

“Late.” Merlin hedged, afraid to tell her.

“When.” 

“Maybe around four or so…” he said, quickly following with, “But I’m ok! I’m not tired at all. I have so much to do, and so many things to organize still. I can’t just write anymore; I’ve gotten to the part of the story that requires careful planning.”

“You’re insane!” Gwen practically shouted, shaking her head. “You may not ‘feel’ tired, but you’ve been acting really strangely. I mean, just now in class, you were totally lost! That’s not good, Merlin.”

“I know, but at least I was doing something important.” Merlin grumbled. “It was a stupid class anyway. When am I really going to use Algebra?”

“Maybe you would be able to figure it out if you actually paid attention.” Gwen countered, and Merlin just rolled his eyes. “I’m worried about you. I know you have to prove something, or whatever ridiculous notion it is you have in your head about Arthur leaving, but you need to watch yourself. This could be really detrimental to everything.”

Merlin just laughed lightly. “Gwen, you’re starting to sound like Will. I know what I have to do and you needn’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

They ate a little, and Merlin mulled her words over. It was rather crushing when put that way, and he couldn’t avoid the little thought nibbling on the corners of his mind that this was all very bad, and that things were only going to get worse.

“I’m not very hungry.” He said quietly, and Gwen looked at him with great pity. “I guess I am a little out of it today.”

“Oh Merlin,” she sighed, and simply patted his head consolingly.

“Enough about me. Have you talked to Lance at all lately?” Merlin said, hesitant to bring it up but desperate for a distraction from his depressing thoughts.

“Well,” Gwen suddenly blushed and turned her face away slightly. “We did talk briefly, yesterday at lunch while you weren’t there.”

“He came to lunch again?”

Merlin had been dreading the lunch hours since he still hadn’t told Gwaine to quit bringing Lance, but Lance had blessedly not shown up since the first time. Merlin hadn’t been able to make lunch yesterday, though, and something told him that Lance probably knew and had taken it as an opportunity to join the others.

“He did. And it was really nice. We just talked, nothing too special, but I felt like he really wanted to get to know me. It wasn’t just superficial small talk. He told me a bit about baseball, and I told him about my exams. He was really encouraging.” Gwen smiled, and Merlin recognized it: it was the smile that said she had some kind of secret story all to herself, and she was going to keep it that way. 

“That’s great, Gwen!” Merlin said brightly. “He’ll come ’round eventually.”

“It would be nice,” Gwen said shyly. “But even if he doesn’t, it would still be good to have him as a friend. Merlin, he’s the _kindest_ person. We started talking about dogs, and he told me all about his and then he let me talk about Addy, and he’s really interested in maybe training dogs someday, and…”

Merlin just nodded and smiled, his thoughts already wandering away. Gwen was sufficiently distracted from pestering him, though, so he finally felt relieved enough to eat a little more lunch.

_Week Two._

Merlin was at the library doing research when he suddenly desperately wanted to know what Italy looked like.

He stared out the window and wondered if it was more beautiful than his city, if the buildings were more refined, if the roads were really all cobblestones and old houses. Maybe the air smelled different. Maybe the birds were more exotic.

Merlin had never really travelled before; he had grown up in a small town and then moved to Camelot only a few years ago. It had been a huge change, but he was glad for it. Still, before he had moved, he had never thought of travelling as a viable option. His family was very much middle class, and with his mom back in school as a full-time student, they were struggling to make ends meet.

Merlin didn’t envy Will at all. Will hadn’t gone to school beyond high school, and he was working a part-time job with what Merlin guessed was no real prospect of moving out. Merlin thought that this was partially Will’s motivation for feeling put-upon to discipline Merlin; Will saw himself as being duty-bound to instill in Merlin a keen awareness of how easy it was to make mistakes and screw yourself out of opportunities. Merlin didn’t need to be told that, though. He felt it every day with his unending sense of purposelessness, uselessness, and the zeal of his writing mostly came out of his obsession with finding reason to it all. To find that gemstone within him, that piece that made him worth something to himself, at least. That was why he and Will were fundamentally different; Will was lost in the past, regrets embittering him and hopes dashed because of them. Merlin, though, was stuck looking forward, fearing the regret even before it arrived and hoping that it never would.

The move to the city was enough to make Merlin want to see more, though. He was afraid of the experience of feeling small and insignificant, but he also craved it. He wanted the anonymity of travel, he wanted the exploration of seeing new things. In his mind, he saw himself moving to Italy with Arthur when he graduated high school, sitting in a romantic little nook of an apartment and writing all day while he waited to see Arthur again, to just enjoy each others’ company and be thought of as equals.

It was a nice thought, and he cherished it just as much as his story. He did that a lot, writing his life out. He was good at it.

As he looked out the window and sat in the plastic library chair, though, he felt like it would never be anything more than fiction.

_Week Three._

Merlin couldn’t sleep, which was ridiculous, because it was already 3:00am and he had promised Gwen that he would go to bed early. Well, this was early, and he was exhausted physically, but he still tossed and turned, his head feeling oddly light and his body disturbingly quivery.

He heard Will rustle a little from the top bunk above him, and he couldn’t help but latch onto the sound in his thoughts. Their relationship had essentially crumbled, even though they lived in the same tiny bedroom and slept in the same bed unit.

They were no longer really speaking openly to each other, which was both convenient and wretched. Will didn’t bother to criticize Merlin for staying up late, and he no longer was on Merlin’s back so much about contributing in the house, but there was something disturbing about how silent he was around Merlin, like he thought Merlin was just completely a lost cause. Merlin felt as though his last emotional connection to the family had been unceremoniously severed, and it was hard to reconcile that.

His parents were absolutely no help at all. Merlin honestly did not believe that they meant him any ill feelings, but they were as lost in their own personal goals as he was, and that left very little room for proper parenting. Merlin didn’t want to bring it up with them because it didn’t seem right to, mostly because he felt some stubbornness about it. They should be the ones to approach the problem. Of course, this philosophy was inherently flawed because they didn’t seem to notice that there was a problem at all.

The days went by in such a haze that Merlin couldn’t will himself to care too much about either his relationship with Will or his relationship with his parents. Every day was basically the same thing: Merlin would put in a long day at school, absently paying attention in class and doing just enough to scrape by, but meanwhile, his whole being would be pored into his work on the story, from when he woke up to after dinner, when the long hours of straight writing would begin and steal away hours and hours of sleep.

Now his thoughts were stealing his sleep instead. He looked at the clock and had to stifle a sigh of frustration when he read 3:42am.

Merlin had begun marking days off on his calendar, and he could hardly believe that is had only been three weeks, the end of September finally creeping up and closing in. The days were colder, brisker, and sometimes he wondered what the weather in Italy was like, if it was cold there. Probably not.

There had been precious few letters from Arthur. He had written Merlin once, a short letter with much less detail than Merlin would have liked but still so Arthur-like that it made up for it. It was almost as though Arthur was trying to spare him more pain at the fact that they were not only separate, but Arthur was having the time of his life while Merlin was sitting in the same hard backed chairs of his classrooms everyday.

Merlin, in his exasperation at not being able to sleep, decided to pull out the letter and read it again:

_Merlin, the buildings are so different here. They all have bright red roofs and yellow walls. Everything feels very old, but the people are lively and extremely intelligent. To tell you the truth, they intimidate me most days, which is probably a part of me you’ve never seen before. Violin making is tough but so worth it. The most distinguished stringed instrument designers have all come out of this city. It makes me doubt my father’s words, something I’ve almost never done before. The job suddenly seems so much more real. People _actually_ make instruments for a living. I’ve never felt with more surety that this is something that could actually happen, and that makes me more excited about the future than I ever could have imagined. _

Merlin did write back, but his letter felt much more like a lie than anything else. It was injected with happy thoughts and carefree jokes, but Merlin knew he was putting a good face on things for Arthur’s sake. He only hoped Arthur couldn’t tell.

The thoughts still churned inside him, but he finally found sleep. The clock read 4:13am.

_Week Four._

Another day at school done, Merlin needed to decide where to go next. The library crossed his mind, but he didn’t really want to be in public. Home seemed like a bad idea because he always felt distracted there, at least until nighttime came with the blessed silence of the rest of his family and the dark corners of the room that made his messes obsolete and his thoughts focus on the white page in front of him. He decided home was the better option, though, and trudged back, blinking blearily and contemplating the darkening sky with an apathetic glance.

Luckily, it didn’t rain until he was indoors. The heavy rain battered his window and the chill in the house made him feel slightly ill and off-kilter. He sat at his desk as the evening wore on, his parents not yet home and Will no where to be seen. Merlin no longer even knew what Will’s schedule was, not careful enough to pay attention and certainly not careful enough to check.

Merlin sat at his desk and willed himself to work. He wasn’t hungry, but he felt like he should eat. He didn’t have the energy to write but it was too late to nap. He felt sick, and his box of tissues was running low, the used rags overflowing the trash can and littering the floor in odd patterns. He really just wanted it to stop, the pressure, the ceaseless pressure, his only motivation the constant refrain of _you could be doing better, you could be working harder._

So he did write. He put his pencil on the paper and watched the words form on the paper, but he didn’t entirely know what he was writing. All he knew was that this part of the story probably wasn’t that important anyway, so he didn’t need to beat himself up about it, right?

_Every part of the story is important, Merlin. Apply yourself! If you were Arthur, you wouldn’t be able to slip like this._

Because that was the thing: he was slipping, and he was breaking, and he was ripping at the seams. His work was sloppy at best, and the initial push at the beginning of his project to get things done and be positive was evaporating, leaving him raw and hurt. He only now realized how much of his life was a complete disaster, and that this story wasn’t even worth it. It wasn’t legitimate. It was him, sitting in his room, pretending that he had a chance at being an author, while meanwhile, Arthur was off in the real world, showing everyone that he could actually achieve greatness.

Merlin’s legs were shaking beneath the table, nervously bouncing up and down as the stress and fear and disappointment of it all washed over him in waves, leaving stains of anxiety in its wake. He couldn’t do this. He had something to prove, and he didn’t even know how.

_I want to write, though. I want to prove something. And I have to try._

He grabbed some tissues and meant to blow his nose, but ended up covering his face instead, collapsing on the desk. This was the feeling of being reduced to nothing more than the feelings, the raw emotions of hurt and anxiety replacing any little coherency his thoughts had had. He was unraveling, unraveled, and the Baron couldn’t fix it. Because the Baron wasn’t fucking real and this feeling of hurt was. It was the only real thing in the world.

He gasped in a sob just before he heard the front door open and his head came up from the desk. 

“Merlin,” he heard distantly from the other room as the front door shut. “So you are home. You could have at least turned on the lights, it’s pitch black in here.”

His mother’s voice was nothing more than a sound to him. Thankfully, his desk was situated in the room so that his back was to her, and she couldn’t see the wreckage of his emotional breakdown on his face. Then again, she was blind to him anyway, completely ignorant of his misery. 

“Merlin, come out here. I could use the help, you should’ve put away the dishes by now…”

Merlin really couldn’t stand it anymore. He got up with a swift motion and slammed his door. She didn’t want to be part of this, and he didn’t want her anyway.

That night, his parents took a moment to question why he wasn’t eating with him, but they didn’t ask him to join, so he stayed in his room and worked.

_Week Five._

“Hello, I’m here to see the guidance counselor.”

Hunith stood at the desk in the front office of Merlin’s school and picked absently at a hangnail on her right thumb. The office smelled like her dentist, and she felt the same kind of foreboding she would feel at the sound of a dentist drill as she waited to see Merlin’s counselor.

He was not doing well, they had told her. His grades had been slipping, and they had called her in for a meeting to discuss possible issues. Hunith was a bit mystified by the whole thing. She knew her son, and she knew that he would not intentionally do badly. Yet, he spent so much time alone, usually at his desk or the library, she had assumed he was studying. She remembered when Will had been that age, and every exam had been like pulling teeth…

She really did have to stop thinking about the dentist.

The guidance counselor, Mr. Gaius, soon came out of the office and held a hand out for Hunith to shake.

“Mrs. Emrys, it’s nice to see you again.” He said kindly. “Your boy Merlin is quite special. We do like him very much here.”

“That’s nice to here,” Hunith replied, but her voice was on edge. “I am concerned, though. They told me on the phone that we had very serious matters to discuss.”

“Yes,” Gaius sighed slightly, gesturing for her to enter the office. “Please, have a seat.”

“Is he doing badly?” Hunith asked as Gaius sat down behind the desk. 

“He is doing more poorly than usual, yes.” Mr. Gaius said gingerly. “I’m quite shocked by it, actually. He’s always been a very diligent student, and even when he hasn’t applied himself completely he’s always done well in the end.”

“How bad is it?” Hunith said, her jaw clenched. 

“He’s gone down 100 places.”

Hunith gasped slightly, and shook her head in disbelief.

“How is that possible? What’s the problem, then, do you think?” Hunith persisted, putting a hand to her forehead as she began to feel a tension headache form. “He’s not getting into trouble, is he?”

She felt suddenly self-conscious of the fact that Mr. Gaius would probably know more about her son than she did. Her thesis had consumed her life for so long now, though, and Merlin had seemed fairly normal, if not a little more distant than usual…

“He appears to be normal, but I have heard little bits and pieces about him getting less sleep lately and not paying attention in class. Normal things, nothing extreme.”

“What should I do?” Hunith asked

“Well, I would suggest talking to him.” Mr. Gaius said patiently. “Maybe asking him if he has anything on his mind. It may be that he is experiencing hormonal changes due to his age, or maybe he is preoccupied by some other distractions. Either way, it would be healthy for you to talk the problem out with him and get him back on the right track.”

Hunith nodded. She wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. Merlin had always shown a great reticence towards telling her his personal problems before. He had come out as gay, but otherwise, he seemed to be afraid to talk to her, or against it, which was unfortunate. She figured it was better for things to take their natural course, though, and she was hesitant to push him for details.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Gaius.”

“I’m happy to help. Let me know if you need me to talk to him as well and sort some things out.”

Hunith nodded, thanked him again, and left the school with a deep sense of foreboding.

When she arrived home, Will was already sitting at the table with their clunky laptop in front of him, typing away furiously. He looked up and smiled at her when she came in.

“Hello.” He said, still half-typing.

“Will, you’re home early.”

“Yes, light day today.” He replied. “How are you?”

“I’m beat,” Hunith said, wearily dropping into a chair across from him.

“I can make some coffee.” Will said, getting up and starting to put the pot on. 

“Thank you so much.”

There was a comfortable silence between them. Hunith realized that this whole Merlin situation would be so much easier if the relationship between them was more like what she had with Will. But Merlin was still so young, still clumsy with his relationships and learning how to deal with being a teenager.

“Mum, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Will said as he poured the ground coffee beans into the container. “I’m thinking of moving out.”

“Oh?” Hunith said, looking up at Will in surprise. “Can you afford it?”

“I think I can. I’ve been saving from my job, and I don’t really need much. Just a small place for me and my things.”

“Wow,” Hunith said, and she was slightly shocked at how different life would be without Will as a constant. “That would be good for you, I’m sure. Still, it would be a loss here, although I suppose I have been depending on you too much.”

“Everyone has to do their part,” Will shrugged, leaning against the counter as the coffee percolated gently behind him. “Plus, it would be nice for Merlin to have his own space. He’s been acting really strange lately,” Will said quietly, staring out the window.

“You’ve noticed, too?” Hunith said, suddenly feeling out of the loop. “I mean, he’s been spending time at his desk so I figured he was working on school, but today I found out from his counselor that he’s dropped 100 places.”

“What?!” Will said, his face aghast. “Why? How? That’s impossible! I mean, I always knew he was unmotivated, but that doesn’t mean he’s ever done badly in school.”

“I can’t guess what it is,” Hunith said quietly, sipping at the coffee Will handed her. “I can’t even begin to.”

 

Merlin didn’t bother changing out of his school uniform when he got home. He simply got to work on the project, sitting at his desk and eating a few candy bars to tide him over. 

Merlin felt on edge, but he was back to raw determination again. He had always prided himself on his strength, and he didn’t think it would fail him now. No, if anything, he knew himself to be the kind of person to step up in situations like this. He was the person who remained a pillar even when the rest of the building had crashed down.

He sat at his desk and worked, feeling slightly more confident as he entered a scene between the Baron and the tyrannical King who had banished magic.

_“You are lost.” The Baron said as he held his sword aloft before him. “You are lost and you know it. Lost in your grief and embarrassment, your pride the only thing that matters to you. Human lives were lost! You attempted to destroy the most beautiful part of the planet, and those are two crimes that are unforgiveable.”_

_“You don’t know anything!” The King spat at him, his eyes wild and crazy with his own defenselessness. “Magic is evil! It does nothing but destroy! Even the destruction by my hands was caused by magic. You are blind to it because it is the only reason you exist, and you are preparing to destroy me. You are nothing but a tool for its destruction!”_

_“You are an ignorant fool who has lied so much that you believe the lies that spew from your mouth more than anyone else.” The Baron said calmly. “People destroy things. Magic is nothing without people to wield it, and power only becomes powerful when we allow it to do so…”_

“Merlin!” Will’s voice stirred him from his concentration, and he spun around in his desk chair in anger. “You need to talk to me _right now_.”

“What is wrong with you, Will?” Merlin yelled back, his shoulders tensing for a fight. “You have no right to just interrupt me whenever you want!”

“I do when it’s about your grades!” Will spat, his face turning an unbecoming red. “You have to know that you’re failing. 100 places, Merlin! How in the world did this happen?”

“Frankly, Will…” Merlin said with sudden calm, before shouting, “You need to mind your own damn business!”

“Merlin, Merlin…” Will said, all exasperation. “Use your head! What kind of post-secondary school will take you with grades like this?!”. 

“Maybe I’m not planning on going to school!” Merlin shot back. “Maybe I’ll be just like you. All you do is work a part-time job! Besides, I can decide my own future!”

“You don’t even know what that means!” Will said. “You don’t make decisions! You sit around and do God knows what, and meanwhile, it turns out everything is going to shit! The school is going to report your grades at the end of this term and you’re going to fail! Face the facts!”

“You’re one to talk! You don’t study. You don’t do anything!”

“I do what I have to! You don’t know anything about my life!”

“Ha! That’s a laugh,” Merlin said sarcastically. “Like there’s anything about your life to know. You can’t even begin to guess what kind of pressure I’m under from all sides!”

“Except you don’t listen to anyone! What are you doing in here, anyway?! What is so important that your grades are suffering?”

“I said it already and I’ll say it again. It’s none of your business!”

“Merlin! Will!” Their father suddenly shouted above them from the doorway to their room. He had obviously just come home from work, his tie still on loosely and his shirt unbuttoned slightly at the top. “I want to see you both in the kitchen in five minutes. Merlin, for heaven’s sake, take off your uniform. It’s almost 7:00.”

“Hurry up,” Will said, storming out after their father, and Merlin went to change out of his uniform, still seething with anger. Will had absolutely no right to make a scene like that, and it really was none of his concern if Merlin failed or succeeded. If anything, Merlin felt like it was their parents’ responsibility, and only theirs, to ask after him, but it seemed Will had beat them to it once again.

Still, he was dreading the conversation he now faced. At the table in the kitchen, Merlin’s father studied the now crumpled slip that said Merlin’s grades and had apparently been passed from family member to family member for all to see. 

“Well.” His father said thoughtfully, looking up at Merlin and leveling him with a stern gaze. “Is it true that you don’t care about your grades, Merlin?”

“That’s not true at all!” Merlin burst out, gaining a disapproving look from Will. “I do care about my grades.”

“You just said you didn’t care enough to go to college…” Will muttered, and Merlin bristled.

“Well, you were the one who told me it wouldn’t happen!” he countered, but Balinor held up a finger, bidding him to be quiet. 

“Will, I would like to speak to Merlin alone for a moment.”

Will looked absolutely pissed off, but as the ever-perfect son he grit his teeth and stood up, leaving without another word.

Just at that moment, the front door closed and Merlin heard his mother return from wherever she had been. She replaced Will, sitting across from Merlin and giving him the impression that he was about to be cross-examined.

His parents looked at him with cold, disappointed eyes, and he didn’t want to meet their gaze anymore. After the stress he had experienced in the last few days, it disturbed him that they would only notice him for his grades, little numbers on a sheet of paper. They couldn’t see that he was despondent, but they did see that he was failing, and that’s what they chose to notice.

It pissed him off so fucking much.

“Well, Merlin.” His father said. “It seems you’ve been a bit too preoccupied to focus entirely on your grades. I’m not sure what you’re doing in your room all the time, but I need to know: is it more important to you than school right now?”

Merlin nodded, studying a nick in the table.

“Can you tell me what it is?”

Merlin breathed deeply and lifted his shoulders. “When it’s time.”

“Is it something that has to get done right now?” Hunith asked, her voice slightly high strung.

“I only have three weeks left!” He cried suddenly, his voice angry. “You’re not going to understand why, and I can’t explain it, but this is a time-sensitive project.”

His parents were silent.

“I’m testing myself.” He said weakly, looking back at the table. “It’s important.”

Hunith wasn’t satisfied. “You need to tell us what it is, Merlin. How will we know otherwise?”

It was Merlin’s turn to be silent. He realized suddenly that he did not trust his parents to take him seriously. He did not trust them to not tell him that he was forbidden to persist with this project, and he couldn’t let them take it away from him.

“I’ve seen how you work at the library,” Balinor said quietly. “And I admire your diligence. You always look so focused, and I feel that is of value, whatever it is you may be doing.”

Merlin continued to say nothing.

“I say that we let him continue.” Balinor said, and Hunith nodded slowly.

“Not everyone has to be the same.” Hunith said, and Merlin found himself looking up in shock. He honestly didn’t believe that his parents had the capacity to understand his feelings on that level, even if they weren’t entirely aware of it.

“But I have to warn you, Merlin,” Balinor said. “This is a lonely path you are embarking on. You have to know that you walk it alone, and so you are the only one to blame if it does not work out.”

Merlin nodded, but the words stung him as he realized just how true they were. He knew how alone he was, even though Arthur was undergoing the same journey. He knew that there was no one else who could understand him right now, or even try to. And he knew the risks he was taking, but he was too far in to stop.

“Also, you’ll have to start joining us for meals.” Hunith said. “We are a family, after all.”

Merlin just nodded, the words sounding forced to him. As though they were willing it to be true. As though they knew all along that family was just a word, and no matter how hard they tried to make it real, they would never really succeed.

“Thank you.” Merlin said anyway, feeling that he owed them that. They hadn’t exactly disappointed him, although past resentments still remained. “I will let you know when I’m done with the test.”

Merlin went right back to his desk, mumbling a quick “good night” rather than sitting awkwardly with his parents while they drank their tea. If anything, the conflict had recharged him, made him even more adamant to finish.

He sat writing, Baron’s dialogue running through his head and amplifying in intensity tenfold after the conversation and the argument.

“Merlin.”

Merlin looked over at Will, who was leaning over the curtain around his bunk and smiling, oddly enough.

“What.” Merlin said, no fight in his voice. 

“I know dad says it’s ok for you to do what you want, but you have to know that they think very highly of you and expect you to do your best. To study.”

Will’s tone was a mix of presumptuous and fondness, and Merlin tried hard not to let it irritate him. He knew Will wished him well, but he had such a weird way of showing it that Merlin never did respond well.

“I know that.” Merlin said, slightly defensive. “I know what he wants. But that doesn’t mean I have to listen.”

“I’m moving out next weekend.” Will suddenly said, and the belligerence went out of Merlin’s face as shock took hold. 

Will. Moving out.

“Mom and Dad have decided that it’s a good idea for me to be independent, and I have enough money to do it. I’ll be out of your hair, at least, so you’d better smarten up!”

“You’re leaving home? Officially?”

“Hopefully.” Will said, disappearing behind the curtain and mumbling goodnight.

Merlin went back to writing, but he was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that this was real now. That he would be actually alone.

_Week Six._

_Dear Arthur,_

_Life is fine here. I have to admit I’m jealous that you have so many cool places to go eat and be artsy at, but then I remember you’re in fucking Italy, so it better be amazing._

_Camelot’s not so bad though. Everyday, I realize there are little things I love about this place. The long flights of stairs. The quaint houses. Even the flickering street lamps, because they remind me of you._

_But life actually isn’t that good. It’s mostly hard. My family is almost impossible to deal with. Gwen is completely occupied with her crush on Lance, meaning that I don’t spend a lot of time with her anymore because it’s Lance. I never told you this, but he asked me out the same day I found out your name._

_I take it back. Life isn’t hard; it’s impossible. I can’t deal with you not being around anymore. I can’t deal with being alone anymore. I can’t deal with anything, and I certainly can’t deal with my own inadequacies._

_I can’t deal._

Merlin crumpled up the sheet of paper and threw it on top of his pile of used tissues in the trash can. Wasted words, wasted breath, waste of space, Merlin.

_Week Seven._

_“You have to realize, young warlock, that the most important thing right now is saving him!” shouted Baron, his voice rattling around inside the sorcerer’s head. “I’m not there anymore, but you are not too late! The prince is counting on you, even if he does not know it. Do not lose faith in yourself!”_

_The sorcerer ran on, dashing across roots and stones and hills, the trees dark and looming on every side. He had no time, no time at all. He had to hurry, because the fate of the prince’s life was in his hands and he couldn’t afford to waste this chance._

_The cave was somewhere in this maze of darkness and gloom. It was supposed to be here, in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, the large stone statues looming giant and impressive. The shadows were thick, but the mist that covered the ground was thicker, and the warlock stumbled again and again, the path lost to him, the sweat cold on his brow, his teeth chattering…_

_“Hurry!” Shouted the voice. “Hurry!”_

_The sorcerer had lost his magic, he had lost his pride, and he had lost most of his kind, but he had not lost his prince, and he had no intention of doing so. The cave appeared before him out of nowhere, gaping, large, full of shining crystals and gems._

_“You must find the right one!” Baron said in his head. “You must find the crystal that will restore you! You are powerful, young warlock. You had the magnitude of the sea, the earth, the wind, the sky. But you must not fail now. You will never have it back if you don’t find the stone. Find the stone!”_

_“It’s nowhere, it’s nowhere!” cried the sorcerer, looking frantically. “It doesn’t exist! I am useless! I am nothing!”_

_“You have to find it!”_

_“I can’t!” He sobbed, searching, the tears streaming down his face. “I’ll never do it!”_

_He searched stone after stone, but they were all cold, rough, and they lost their shine as soon as he touched them. He grabbed and yanked and pulled and desperately looked._

_Just as he was giving up, something shone from the ground though. A bright stone, brighter than all the rest, with the same power as a shining star._

_Relief entered into his soul and he thought,_ here it is. I am saved from my own doom. __

_He grabbed at it frantically, and it came loose in his hand, shining as bright as the midday sun and burning his retinas._

_“I’ve found it, Baron!” He shouted recklessly. “Here it is! It’s found!”_

_The stone glowed stronger and then suddenly faded. All at once, its weight died in his hands. It shrunk and morphed and became soft and brown._

_All he held was a dead bird._

 

Light.

The room was filled with the light of morning, and Merlin’s head was on his table. He was unaware of what was going on, and he collapsed on the now open space between his bed and his desk. The room was empty, except for him and his books. Just space. All space.

His head was blurry. His vision felt as burned as the sorcerer’s. Every part of his body ached with sitting all night, but he felt nothing, nothing really. Nothing but the hollow emptiness of the empty beds on the other wall. Nothing but the clear sunlight of another morning. He wasn’t even disturbed by the fact that his father would be waking up in less than half an hour to start a new day like he normally would be. He was apathetic about the fact that school started in two hours.

It didn’t matter.

Merlin grabbed a book from the pile in front of him instinctively. He flipped the pages and turned to the violin maker in his cell. 

_Determination._

He saw Arthur in his head, sitting at the counter carving the violin like he had that one day so long ago. It felt like years since he had seen him. It felt like centuries. 

Arthur’s letter was not far away. It was the only one he had sent. 

Merlin turned his face away from the picture. He turned away from the light. He just turned away, and he didn’t have the energy to cry. Even though that was all he was in that moment.

_I haven’t found the stone._


	12. Unfulfilled Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-awaited chapter! And it isn't all I want it to be, and it never will be, and it certainly isn't the end. Insert all the reasons I didn't post sooner here, but you don't really want to know and I don't really want to say and I'll just be grateful if you'll continue reading because I so so so appreciate the unwavering support I've already received!

When he was younger, Kilgharrah believed he knew the meaning of love. He knew it in the little moments when his lover would reach out and grab the salt shaker that sat on the other side of him, her body entering his space for that little moment and warming him with her sweet scent. He knew it when she would walk next to him and bump into him occasionally by accident, her steps not at all graceful or balanced, her animated way of talking distracting her from proper alignment. He knew it when she would write to him while he was away on missions, her elegant handwriting filling page after page with sincere thoughts and little windows into her life, so far away from his own in that moment.

He knew it because they were sworn to each other without ever saying so out loud. They were meant to love because they understood each other in a way that shocked him and left him bereft when he had to spend time with other people. He wanted, back then, to tell everyone that he had discovered the secret to curing his wretched humanity: that the air he breathed had suddenly become precious, a miracle beyond anything he could have hoped for.

Kilgharrah sighed as he sat in front of his intricately carved hearth in his small house in the city of Camelot. Life’s roads were strange, and even as he felt he knew things, he knew he did not know. Without her, without the one person he had thought was the only thing keeping him alive during that terrible part of his life, Kilgharrah’s thoughts had become focused on metaphor, and he supposed it was a part of his old age starting to show. He wasn’t so much living as observing the living; it wasn’t so much freedom as waiting to be freed.

He had finally mastered his longing for the old days; now, it was only in his weakest moments that he let the pining for it fill him and embitter him. Those were the moments after Arthur had left, and the lights were all turned off, and his resistance retreated into the dark corners of the room. 

Now was one of those moments. The sun was just setting, illuminating the room in its pale, hazy autumn glow. The objects in the room all glittered slightly and Kilgharrah was just beginning to feel at peace, the fire in front of him glowing quietly and co-mingling with the leftover rays of sunlight. It was a brisk evening, giving the impression of security inside, away from the mid-October chill.

Kilgharrah dozed off, and that was when he was gripped with the unavoidable memories.

_“When we’re old,” he whispered quietly, holding her around the waist as they laid side by side in the cool grass. It was damp and slightly uncomfortable, but he hardly thought about it, absorbed in looking at the stars and just being there, touching her, holding on. “I’ll buy a beautiful, big house, and we’ll live in it together. We’ll make tea, and we’ll collect beautiful things.”_

_She laughed. “We can make tea now, you know. But we’ll make it special tea when we’re old. We’ll make tea in fine china cups and drink elegantly. And we’ll finally feel safe,” she said, her voice quiet and slightly broken._

_Kilgharrah sighed, or felt himself sigh. The dream space was obscuring things a bit and mixing the words up. “We’ll never be poor again. One day, my love. We will rest.”_

_Kilgharrah saw her young, beautiful face in his mind, still perfectly intact in his memory. Only he knew that it was all a lie, because he felt older than her. He saw her smooth skin and knew his did not match. He felt her physically drift away from him, the space between them growing further apart and leaving nothing but a hollow trail._

_It was so like her to be forever leaving. To be gone away because really, had she ever even existed? He knew she had, and yet there was that space, the unbreachable space. And he was left alone, to sit in misery and think of what could have been._

_He felt her hands in his but they were dead to him. He felt the sorrow fill him up, and leave him cold, leave him shivering. He shook so hard it seemed to rattle his very bones and make his heart pound faster…_

Kilgharrah opened his eyes slowly, suddenly awake, and realized a second later it was the sound of the hollow clunk of the lone log breaking that woke him. There was no other sound but the distant rumble of cars somewhere far away, traveling in the quickly waning light.

He felt himself sigh, a great inhalation and exhalation, and just as he began to close his eyes again, there was a knock on the door.

The door then swung open gently, making Kilgharrah start again, his mind still filled with the vision of his beloved from so long ago. Kilgharrah turned in his chair, slowly, and was greeted with the sight of the lanky silhouette of Merlin.

“Oh, Merlin,” he said, a smile on his face. “Do, come in. How are you?”

“I’m so sorry to burst in like this,” Merlin said apologetically, and Kilgharrah could see the anxiety written on his face. “It’s important, though. I’ve finished my story.”

“You have!” Kilgharrah exclaimed, getting up slowly. “I’m impressed. I feel as though it was just yesterday you were in here explaining your plan to me…”

Kilgharrah got up and crossed the short space to Merlin, shutting the door and closing the curtain. “I’d be happy to read it. Are you sure it’s ready?”

“No,” Merlin said softly, clutching the thick packet of papers to his chest tightly before reaching out to hand it to Kilgharrah. “But I want you to read it.”

Kilgharrah took it from him and Merlin sighed, his hands shaking ever so slightly. “It’s a tome!” he chuckled, looking at the front. “ _The Diamond of the Day._ ” he read, and then looked up at Merlin. 

“Can you read it now?” Merlin said urgently, his voice laced with anticipation.

“I can certainly try!” Kilgharrah said, returning to the mantle to relight the fire. “Come, sit by the hearth while you wait, it is terribly cold outside.”

“No!” Merlin said suddenly, and Kilgharrah looked up at him in surprise. “Sorry, no thank you. I’d prefer to sit downstairs, if I may.”

“Hmm.” Kilgharrah mused. “If you prefer it. I’ll be up here.”

“Thank you.” Merlin said, shuffling over to the stairway. 

Kilgharrah watched him leave, sighing slightly. The poor boy was fighting a hard battle. But if Kilgharrah knew anything about life or love, it was that most hard battles had to be fought alone.

 

Merlin walked down the stairs slowly, and with reserve. He stopped midway, feeling his breath speed up and his eyes travel slowly to the dark corner, the empty seat, the neat and polished countertop. 

Of course, he wasn’t there. Arthur wasn’t supposed to be here. Arthur was supposed to achieve and live, and Merlin was glad for him.

_Who am I fucking kidding._

Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, gripping the railing. He had longed for this space for months. A few times, he had dreamed of the idea of asking Kilgharrah if he could come down here and write. But the violins hanging from the ceiling were a testament for why that could never be; the place was still a studio for lessons, and there was no way Merlin could ever gather the courage to ask Kilgharrah if he would be able to work here, anyway.

Now that he was here, though, Merlin felt the emptiness cut deeply through his heart, the silence and stillness of it all making him feel the weight of his solitude. Because it was a weight, a solid feeling of desperation that he carried around like a ball and chain and could only wait for deliverance from. The silence was more violent than any of his fears.

_This is a lonely path you are embarking on. You have to know that you walk it alone._

His father’s words echoed in his ears, and he knew he had to move on. He had to stop picturing Arthur in the corner of the room, stupid Arthur with his stupid, beautiful hair and stupid, brilliant hands crafting stupid, amazing instruments. 

Merlin didn’t cry. He walked on, passing by the counter and the empty seat and opening the door, longing for the numbing effects of the city, of the noise, of _anything_ besides this dark and chilling place. 

The air was cold on his face, but he didn’t really give it a thought. He went to the rail and leaned his body against it, clutching it until his knuckles turned white. Reflecting on the day vaguely in the corner of his mind, he could hardly believed he had gone to school. He felt the weariness of the past eight weeks crash down around him, burying him, suffocating him. As he stared out at the vast city before him, though, he didn’t feel the relief that he desired so fervently, the absolute release from all those fears that hounded him in the wee hours of the night. Instead, he felt the crushing defeat that comes with knowing in one’s soul that the time spent was worthless, that the world kept turning and he didn’t keep up.

His mother had once told him that when he was younger, he would make up stories endlessly, all day long, but he remembered those times as though they were a distant dream. It was simple, back then. His stories were driven by his gut instinct simply to be a participant in the world around him. He wasn’t motivated by learning or growing or proving, it was just the simple pleasure of using his imagination to its fullest extent, challenging it every day to bend the rules of reality a bit further and test the waters. Just as a young child tastes to learn, Merlin would touch and grab his thoughts with seemingly full control, unaware of hazard and oblivious to failure. That had all faded away when he grew older, his obsession turning towards reading to satisfy that deeper part of him that craved more than what he saw, that desperately searched for meaning in the meaningless.

It was the fear of meaninglessness that had driven him to write so feverishly. It was the fear of being lost, left behind. “Waste-of-space” syndrome. It was supposed to be a grand showdown between him and the prosaic, and Merlin had fully expected to win. All he had wanted was to prove to himself that he had something worth contributing, something that would bring a new level of energy to the world completely unique to him.

Thinking about writing and actually writing had been two very different things, though. It had become a race between him and his own mind. He would have a thought and it would slip away. He would feel something for his character and then it was gone, or too raw to explain. It was feeling and not articulation. It was the gracelessness of never truly knowing what he wanted to say, and it killed him every moment along the way, like a series of acute tortures that arrived with every useless word and muddled sentence.

And in the end, he was always the only one to blame.

Merlin swallowed hard. He had always hated feeling sorry for himself, taking hold of someone else’s story and living through them vicariously to escape his own tendencies towards self-hatred. But that hatred always crept back. It might be in the form of jealousy for the lives of the characters he read about, or for the precision and finesse of the author who wrote them. Sometimes it was the intense inspiration that jolted through him with a finely crafted paragraph, only to leave him stale and empty when he sat down in front of a blank page and tried to write. Most of the time, though, it was his intense insecurity, filling him up with questions, with the many reasons why he wasn’t good enough and never would be that served as the answers.

_I just want to be a creator of beautiful things._

Except, it was so much more than just that. He wanted to change people with his words. How the hell was he supposed to do that, though, when he couldn’t even change himself?

The world thrummed on in front of his eyes as he watched it move, the people in it going about their lives. It seemed to come apart before him, his mind suddenly acutely aware of all the souls moving around in their human containers, crashing around against each other and making a ruckus together. It all seemed meaningless, looking at it from the perspective of each individual. He thought of his parents, toiling away at their endless jobs, the creases from exhaustion between their brows the only thing they really had to hold on to at the end of the day. He thought of his brother, headed down the same road. He thought of every person he had passed on the street in his whole life, every person he had exchanged conversations with. He thought of the little boy who called out after Moon. 

They were all just little pieces; little, insignificant pieces, drops in a sea thousands of times greater than themselves. Merlin was suddenly paralyzed with the terror of it all, with the extreme doubt. _Why?_ he thought, not for the first time. _I need to know why._

It was ridiculous, really, because deep in his heart he knew there was never going to be an answer. He stared at his knuckles again, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. 

His stormy thoughts felt distant even to himself, because he could not own them. He felt the hopelessness seep through him at that, the worry that he would never really accurately define anything. He thought of the thousands upon thousands of people who had spent their lives deconstructing it all and thinking about it all and how there was still no way of knowing what it all meant.

Suddenly, he shut his eyes tight and looked up again.

The horizon stretched before him, the city still pulsing in the fading light. The sun had retreated beneath the hills in the distance, and all that was left in its wake was a soft sheen to the air, a source-less light that seemed to touch everything and leave nothing behind.

And even as Merlin tasted the salty water of his tears on his upper lip, he knew that his own weakness was guiding him away from the hugeness of the world. He felt his thoughts shrink down, and turning away from the millions and millions of souls, he sunk down on the porch and focused only on the feeling of his cold, rough hands against his damp cheeks and absolutely nothing else.

 

Kilgharrah flipped the last page and closed the little paper package with care. 

He held the book in his hands for a minute, smiling slightly to himself. In a way, he felt like an intruder reading it, as if he had just read a personal journal that was never supposed to see the light of day. He also felt a deep sense of admiration for the boy who had so diligently crafted it. It was as though he could feel the weight of Merlin’s hard work in his hands, and he sighed as he contemplated the agony of Merlin’s expression when he had come in, the terrible burden that he must have felt while writing.

The book had been absolutely steeped in the exploration of youth that Kilgharrah regarded fondly now, but only because it had been so many years since he himself had experienced it. In reality, he knew it was a hard battle, just as all of life was. An uphill-climb.

Kilgharrah didn’t understand the book completely, there were parts missing and he had felt many times like he was trying to decipher a secret language and key into thoughts that Merlin had accidently left out. Still, the book was endearing and had parts that were extremely well written. It impressed Kilgharrah to no end, and he smoothed the cover beneath his palm before sighing and standing up.

“I best go find him,” he muttered to himself, heading for the stairs.

To Kilgharrah’s slight surprise, the basement was completely dark, the lights all off. Kilgharrah flicked them on gently, expecting to see Merlin asleep, slumped over on the desk.

He wasn’t there, though.

“Odd…” Kilgharrah murmured, walking towards the door. “Perhaps he’s left already?”

He opened the back porch door, and somewhat to his horror, the band of light from inside illuminated the hunched form of Merlin, who sat on the porch with his knees folded tight to his chest and his head down. Moon slept nearby, standing up and stretching as the sliver of light from the door hit him.

“Oh, Merlin!” Said Kilgharrah, already shivering slightly in the cool breeze. “You’ll make yourself ill! Sit up, boy.”

Kilgharrah took a few steps forward, about to touch Merlin on the head. Merlin looked up before he could, though, his face a blur of splotchy red color and tear-streaked misery.

Merlin stood up hastily after he registered what was going on, and Kilgharrah gave him his gentlest smile.

“I read it.” He said quietly, and he could practically see Merlin breaking in front of him, the anxiety making his eyes cloud over and producing little half-blinks. “It was very good, Merlin. I could tell you worked hard. You’re very talented.”

Kilgharrah was neither tentative nor patronizing, but he could see already that Merlin didn’t believe him, his head shaking back and forth rapidly even before Kilgharrah had finished speaking.

“It’s not, it’s not!” Merlin cried, reaching up to grasp his hair with both hands. “I know it’s crap! It’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever written, but I had to do it. I couldn’t stop. Once I’d started…I’ve ruined my own life…”

It was as though the words flowing out of Merlin’s mouth were coming from someplace deep inside him, unbidden, unwanted, and frantic, a mish-mash of thoughts and internal arguments. Kilgharrah looked at him with as much kindness as he could.

“Merlin, it’s only been eight weeks. Any other author would kill to produce something of this kind of length in that time. You need to know that this is a huge accomplishment. You’re brilliant.”

The dejection in Merlin’s eyes told Kilgharrah that every word he said was bouncing right off him, only leaving him more solitary.

“But,” Merlin said, his hands sliding down and covering his cheeks. “I’ve tried so hard to keep up with Arthur. I knew it was a test, and I knew I had to pass it, and it was never enough. I was never enough.”

Kilgharrah watched as Merlin disappeared behind his hands, his body shivering with what could only be called grief. 

“Merlin,” Kilgharrah said softly. “This isn’t about Arthur. Not anymore. It’s about you.”

It was all so achingly familiar for Kilgharrah. The sorrow of growing up, yes, but also the great burden to lift someone else above you and compare yourself to them. To live up to the person you just wanted to be loved by, to have simultaneously craved them and feared them because they had the control to destroy you by wanting something else. He didn’t have it in his heart to tell Merlin that those feelings would never really disappear. That the feelings of reckless bitterness and anxiety would only ever disappear to the point of lurking beneath the surface, ready to come out and prey on the mind in its weakest moments.

“I’ve been trapped inside myself for so long,” Merlin said quietly, his hands dropping to his sides, his eyes unfocused and clouded with a darkness that made Kilgharrah feel sick with sorrow. “I didn’t want to tell anyone what I was doing because I thought I had to do it on my own, or it wouldn’t count. I lost myself to it.”

“Merlin,” Kilgharrah said softly, grasping Merlin’s shoulder firmly. “You haven’t lost yourself at all. This is the part where you find yourself in the midst of the greatest sorrow and your worst weaknesses. To find your heart you must break it open first and examine the inside, and you won’t always like what you find there. But it’s not about what you find. It’s about how you use what you’ve found.”

Merlin looked up, wiping the tears from his eyes. Kilgharrah smiled at him, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and released it.

“Come inside now, please. It’s cold.”

Kilgharrah was relieved when Merlin did.

 

Merlin ate his noodles and soup without reserve, focusing only on the hot liquid of the broth and the salty flavor, and absolutely nothing else.

“Arthur ate this same meal after he finished his first violin,” Kilgharrah mused, and Merlin raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “He was a wreck, too. Absolutely done in by it.”

Merlin simply wiped his nose and kept eating.

 

Kilgharrah had told stories of his youth after they finished eating, his voice sounding less like words to Merlin and more like a gentle and reassuring hum in the background of the lifeless thoughts that traveled through his mind. The world had transformed to sensory feeling for Merlin; it was the flickering light of the gentle fire, the hot china teacup pressed between his fingertips, the steam licking its way up his chin and around his cheeks. It was the quiet snore of Moon and the gentle tick of an antique clock that resided somewhere in the deep shadows of the shop, an unknown. 

Kilgharrah seemed to sense Merlin’s regression to the child-like state that possessed him, and not after long, he stood up slowly and walked over to a bookcase in the corner of the room. 

“I want you to have this. Certainly, you’ve earned it.”

Kilgharrah placed the green emerald in Merlin’s hands where the teacup had just been, its rough surface striking a heavy contrast to the smooth porcelain.

“You need to remember this, Merlin.” Kilgharrah said, and Merlin shivered involuntarily. “All of it. You won’t want to remember it. The worst times are the easiest to forget. But they come back eventually, and it is better to know them before they haunt you.”

Merlin willed himself with every fibre of his being not to cry again, it was too soon. He didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded, smiling slightly and holding the stone in a firm grasp between his chapped fingers.

 

“Will we be seeing Merlin tonight?”

It had become a sore point between him and Hunith, the matter of Merlin. Where Merlin was at any given moment. What Merlin was doing. What Merlin wasn’t doing. Who Merlin actually was.

And as always, Hunith leveled Balinor with her finest look of exasperation.

“I don’t know.” She said tartly. “I can’t say.”

“Hunith,” Balinor sighed wearily. “I worry about the boy. He’s not like Will; he’s not motivated.”

“Will wasn’t exactly motivated in high school.”

“But he knew there were consequences. Merlin seems to be oblivious.”

“He’s not exactly a child, Balinor.” Hunith’s voice was gentle, sad. “He’s becoming a man. And he must do that in whatever way he knows how.”

“It just seems cruel.” Balinor countered. “We’re leaving him to his own devices when he needs us most.”

“We’re letting him see the world without watching his every move.”

Balinor was silent, and was about to pull out a cigarette when the front door opened.

Merlin stepped into the kitchen a moment later.

“I want to let you know that tonight marks the end of my experiment.” He said quietly, soberly. 

Balinor and Hunith wore identical quizzical expressions, waiting for Merlin to proceed.

“Now, I’m going to bed.” Merlin said with some finality, and fittingly, he yawned, his whole body possessed by the movement.

Hunith got up from her chair before Merlin could retreat and gave him a firm hug.

“You’re a good son,” she said quietly. “Get some rest.”

“Did you want anything to eat?” Balinor asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.” Merlin said, patting his mother’s cheek before disappearing from sight.

 

Merlin was asleep before Balinor could say goodnight. So instead, he stood in the doorway with a fond smile on his face.

“A soldier at ease,” he said quietly, and tucked the blankets a little more snugly around Merlin’s deep-breathing form.


	13. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intricate network of every detail all in the space of two bodies.

Merlin stood on the balcony. The city was before him, the cold wind on his face and the air crisp with fall. He was so high in the air; it felt as if he was floating, as if he were a levitating spirit. He was one with the earth in a powerful yet transparent way. He couldn’t tell where his edges ended and the edges of the balcony began. He felt the sounds of the traffic and the wind and the birds course through him, one and the same with them. 

It was odd, this feeling. He had always hated feeling invisible. He wanted to stand out, to do something for once in his life that would make him feel complete. He wanted to be selfless. He wanted to know that he had made a difference.

But a power was coursing through him, too, a power that could not be contained. He wasn’t merely standing there, looking; he was an active part of it all, feeling and being and moving with it even as his body remained still. Every part of his body felt keenly aware, and he suddenly realized he wasn’t invisible at all. Every part of him hummed with life. Every part of him felt inextricably connected with the world. He lifted both his hands and felt it pulse. The sky fell dark and the lights of each building flickered brighter and brighter, until the world grew light with it, the glare settling on him in an affirmation that he was creating this, he was part of this, and the world was much more than something he simply occupied. 

The light filled him and he was warm.

 

Merlin awoke all at once, something waking him with purpose, although he wasn’t quite sure what. Watery daylight filtered in through the window, the very first light filling the air with quiet resolve. Merlin could just make out his comforter tossed to the floor next to his bed, and the stack of neatly piled books on his desk across the room. 

He knew he didn’t need to be awake; it was obviously still before dawn, and he probably had an hour or two before he would need to be up for school. Yet something about the hazy nature of the morning beckoned to him, and he started to inexplicably get up and crawl over to the window, maybe to smell the morning air or look to the horizon and watch the sun rise.

The dream he had just had still pounded through him, settling in his stomach with this murky greatness he could no longer identify. It was hazy now, what had actually happened, but Merlin still felt the power of whatever it had been shake his bones, partly from the chill, but mostly from the remnants of the vividness of the dream.

The world outside was foggy and obsolete, the city obscured by what appeared to be low-hanging clouds that obliterated all details. There was almost no sound besides the very distant rumble of faraway vehicles. Merlin slid the window open and was greeted with an eye-watering gust of cold wind that settled on every part of his skin and made him shiver violently. 

Suddenly, a noise from the ground caught his attention. He looked down and saw something move between the branches of the trees that almost completely covered the sidewalk beneath. He questioned his sanity for a second, wondering if it had been a trick of his dream-addled mind. But the sound happened again. There was something there. He squinted to see it. A thing, a wheel, a sound. A very, very familiar sound.

The confirmation came when Merlin glimpsed a bicycle wheel through the leaves.

No. It couldn’t be. It definitely couldn’t be.

“Arthur?”

Merlin whispered it, and as though summoned, the bicycle reversed and there he was, Arthur Pendragon, in all of his shining glory. A huge smile erupted on his face when he glanced up at the window again, his hand extending in an excited wave.

“Merlin!”

He mouthed the word, but Merlin didn’t need to hear it. He was already closing his window before he could even completely glimpse the smile stretched wide across Arthur’s face. The window shut, Merlin hastened to the bedroom door, only to turn around again immediately and gesture to Arthur that he would be down in a moment.

 _Less than a moment,_ Merlin thought as he hurried to the front door. It always, always made a tremendous noise, so although he tried to open it quietly, it screeched and banged just as much as it always did. Merlin didn’t really have time to care, though, as he went flying down the stairs tripping over his own feet.

It was only when he got to the bottom of the stairs that he realized he didn’t have a coat and his shoes were only half on. The cold air hit him all at once, but the blood pumping through his veins made him feel immune to human issues, as though he had somehow transcended his mortality in favor of something greater.

All at once he was standing right in front of Arthur, whose broad grin matched Merlin’s perfectly. Merlin bounced from foot to foot, mostly in excitement, teeth chattering slightly.

“What are you doing here?!” 

“I got back last night, a few days earlier than I thought I would. I wanted to surprise you as soon as I could but I didn’t think you’d be awake. I was just about to turn around, when you suddenly just appeared! I can’t believe it! What a team.”

“I honestly don’t believe you’re real,” Merlin said, his voice laced with uncertainty and a touch of fear, as though if he said his doubts out loud they would suddenly spring to life.

“I’m here and I need you to come with me. Like, right now.” Arthur suddenly shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Merlin, who started to say something about going back inside to get his own. “Absolutely no time for that. We need to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see!” Arthur said, touching Merlin’s cheek for a moment and sending an entirely different kind of shiver down Merlin’s spine. “You’re going to have to get on the back of my bike.”

“Um. Ok. How?” Merlin surveyed the back of the bicycle, looking at the small shelf that would obviously be completely inadequate to hold a human being of any size, let alone a gawky teenage boy.

“Do you always have to be so difficult?” Arthur said, giving him the patented eye-roll. “Get on! Just do it. I promise you you’ll be fine.”

In a feat that truly undermined the laws of physics, Merlin balanced his body weight precariously on the bike shelf, putting a foot on either side of the wheels and grabbing Arthur around the waist. It was uncomfortable, but it worked, and Merlin was suddenly so focused on the general aura of Arthur that surrounded him that he didn’t care what happened.

“You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

The bike was suddenly in motion, and Merlin’s face pressed against Arthur’s back as they moved. They moved quickly, much more so than Merlin had anticipated, and with a kind of urgent rhythm. It was like a secret energy existed between them, moving them in sync with every bump in the road or turn. They swayed and shifted together, going around curves at slight angles and somehow seeming to support each other’s weight even though Merlin wasn’t pedaling. Merlin felt a secret energy extremely reminiscent to that of his dream, as though there was something guiding them bigger than the bicycle.

“I’ve always wanted to take you where we’re going,” Arthur said over the sound of the wind whistling around them. “I just hope we don’t miss it.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Merlin said, and he could almost feel Arthur smiling. “I can’t believe this is happening. I was asleep five minutes ago!”

“You bum, you almost missed me.” Arthur said imperiously. “Some people get up with the sun, you know.”

“The sun's not even up yet! And I am not ‘some people.’” Merlin quipped back.

“You’re right,” Arthur said simply. “You’re definitely not.”

Merlin couldn’t process the world as they buzzed by houses and buildings, around corners and up hills, all the while Arthur’s warm body heat surrounding him in a haze of glorious contentedness.

“Um, Arthur?”

“Yeah.” Arthur’s voice sounded more like a grunt.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No, Merlin. Don’t be stupid.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a cryptic asshole I wouldn’t have to ask.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the word “surprise,” you absolute dollop-headed ninny?”

“Listen here,” Merlin said stoutly, his finger raised. “I do recall that _you said_ ‘dollop head’ is not a word.” 

“I say a lot of things,” Arthur said, his voice muffled by the wind. “And although I was correct when I said that—“ he grunted as they went up a slight incline. “—the word has started to grow on me despite my best efforts.”

Merlin was about to pull out some kind of response when the ascent suddenly became much steeper. Even with Arthur’s valiant attempts to keep them going, the bike slowed down to a grindingly sluggish pace. 

“Um, Arthur?” Merlin said again, this time his voice a mixture of concern and amusement. “Do you want help?”

“No, Merlin.” Arthur said peevishly, his teeth gritted. “I do not require…your assistance.”

“Don’t be such a stubborn cabbage head.” Merlin said impatiently. Before Arthur could say another word, Merlin hopped off the bicycle (with surprising grace) and began pushing it up the hill. 

“What…are…you doing!” Arthur panted. Merlin gave him a swift pat on the back.

“Helping you.”

“Stop! This is my job!”

“Don’t be such a selfish clotpole.” Merlin said simply. “I’m not completely useless, you know.”

“I know,” Arthur said, and even though he said the words quietly, he seemed to insinuate something much deeper beneath them, something that Merlin couldn’t even begin to fathom out.

After a bit, they made it to the top of the hill and the pedals of the bicycle suddenly sped up significantly, sending Arthur shooting ahead. 

“Hurry up, Merlin!” he laughed, pedaling with ease again. 

Merlin jogged behind him and jumped on again, the whole bicycle swaying at the sudden increase in weight.

“We’re almost there.” Arthur said, his tone full of excitement. “Just you wait.”

Merlin was silent, clinging to Arthur’s back as they quickly sped along the pavement of quiet streets still covered in the weak morning light.

It was nice, this feeling of absolute security. It was so different from everything Merlin had felt in the last few months; so absolutely, breathtakingly different. Of course, the brokenness was still there beneath it. It couldn’t be healed that easily. But Arthur was something like a draught of bliss after all the pain and loneliness, and there was no denying that his presence chased away the demons that had resided so close to Merlin’s heart for so long.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered suddenly.

“Yeah.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Thousands of moments had elapsed since the last time they had seen each other, thousands of times that Merlin had searched his mind for patterns of words and phrases to fill the pages of his book, and among all of them, none seemed so perfect as those little words.

“Merlin.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re here.”

Merlin looked up from his resting place on Arthur’s shoulder blade and looked around curiously. They had reached what appeared to be some kind of water tower, and Merlin recognized it suddenly as the one that he had always seen on a distant hill from his house. Only now, it wasn’t so distant: it stood in front of him, its massive girth distracting him from what lied ahead.

“Look,” Arthur said, pointing as they dismounted the bike. 

Merlin looked.

The world seemed to stretch out before them, the elevated height of their destination providing the perfect watching point to see the action of every intricate detail of the planet’s surface. It was wide, expansive. 

Only there was no city. There were no intricate details. There was only an ocean of fog smothering everything: every person and every voice and every minute detail of _everything_.

Merlin exhaled a small laugh as he looked, a strange sense of peace filling him up. All the pressures of reality melted away into this new and blanketed space. He stared at it in wonder. The dream he had just had not twenty minutes ago came back to him in full force. He had dreamed of a world of vast detail, a million little moving parts, and him just another one of them; now, there was nothing but a world of mist. He knew that underneath it all lay that vast and imposing network, but for now, it was gone. He could suddenly breathe again. He repossessed the energy that the world had so cruelly stolen away with its business.

A hand suddenly touched his, and he was brought back to the present.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice slightly husky. “Your eyes look golden.”

Merlin turned slowly to face Arthur, his expression blank and the spiral of his energy filling him up. 

“Golden.” Merlin said. “That’s odd.”

Arthur laughed quietly. “You’re odd.”

“I suppose I am.”

Arthur brought a hand up to Merlin’s cheek and caressed it slowly. “I suppose that’s why I can’t seem to resist you.”

Merlin closed his eyes as their lips met.

Intoxication. The energy of the world was suddenly Merlin’s to have, and he put it all into the kiss. He needed Arthur more than air. He needed to feel every part of him, have every part of him. He needed Arthur to know that he couldn’t bear another second apart, not another moment without him.

Arthur seemed to feel the same thing, if his kissing was any indication. Time seemed to stop. The world already had, but now time did too. It was all lips and tongue and teeth and more lips and cheeks and neck and hands and more hands and _god, yes, please, run your fingers through my hair again, and don’t stop, my lower back is a great place for you to be, and there’s so much we have missed and we’ve both suffered so much but all that matters is this combination of us and our bodies and the electricity that seems to shudder its way through every pore of our skin that collides._

Arthur kissed his way down Merlin’s throat and Merlin couldn’t resist moaning slightly. He didn’t realize he was so desperate until this moment, didn’t realize that this was what had been missing all that time. His senses were inundated with it, but his soul yearned for it even more; his very inner person seemed to cry out with some kind of hidden anguish, the connection between them suddenly feeling centuries old and absolutely unforgettable. How he could have forgotten it, he didn’t know.

It went on like this for quite some time, a limbo of time and space and nothing but two souls hurtling towards each other and slamming into one another again and again with unbelievable gentleness for all their hasty carelessness. 

“Merlin.” 

Arthur’s voice rang through everything.

“Arthur.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Merlin rested his head between Arthur’s shoulder and neck. He didn’t care to ask how all of this could be. For once, he didn’t analyze the truth of the situation.

“I know I’m in love with you.”

They embraced each other for some time, their bodies filling in all the gaps between them and fitting together perfectly. It should have been strange, their instant connection, but Merlin didn’t question it. Nothing had ever felt more familiar to him than this body against his. No one had ever been more important to him than the man whose palms were splayed across his back.

“Merlin, look.”

Merlin lifted his head off Arthur’s shoulder and looked at his face. Arthur smiled fondly, but then motioned for Merlin to look out at the city.

“Wow.”

The world was transforming before them. The sun broke through the hazy cloud cover and pierced through the fog, particle by particle. It looked like it was disintegrating, the jagged lines of the buildings slowly appearing through the clearing mist. 

The world was being born.

Merlin saw the city and felt its hum and pace inside of him once again, felt the thousands of people who resided in it and all of their little lives. But they seemed good to him today. They seemed purposeful, moving in tandem with a greater energy that ebbed and flowed in his own body.

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly. “My grandfather told me about what happened with you while I was away.”

Merlin stiffened slightly, and Arthur seemed to detect it because he stroked his back gently. Merlin swallowed. “It was pretty rough.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—“ Merlin halted. “I wanted to handle it on my own. I wanted to prove I was strong enough.”

“Me too,” Arthur admitted. “I wanted to show my parents something. And it’s been hard for both of us, but you know what?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I proved a single damn thing except that my life was extraordinarily harder without you in it.” Arthur said, pushing the hair back from Merlin’s forehead. “You were always in my peripheral vision, Merlin. You were always something I could aspire to. You were just kind of there and that comforted me somehow.”

“I’ve been trying to aspire to be someone like you, though!” Merlin cried, slightly outraged. “How could you possibly want to be like me?”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his tone taking on that patent matter-of-factness so intrinsic to him. “You can’t possibly tell me that you don’t know that you have something I’ll never have. It’s in your eyes. It’s there every time you move or breathe.”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin said, absolutely flabbergasted. 

“I can’t say it as well as you could,” Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. “But you’re…you’re magical. I don’t know. You think about things and you seem to be full of secrets and it makes me want to shake you and kiss you at the same time.”

“Really.” Merlin said, his eyebrows shooting up and his mouth twitching with a grin. “I guess I’m going to have to think of more secrets to keep from you then.”

“You bastard,” Arthur said, kissing Merlin firmly on the mouth. “You bloody, magic bastard.”

Merlin just laughed, his eyes twinkling, his spirit filling him up and making him feel invincible. He suddenly felt sober, though, the reality of everything hitting him and making a shiver of worry tingle up his spine.

“Arthur,” Merlin said. “Where are we going from here?”

“I need to ask you something.” Arthur said, his voice suddenly sounding afraid. “I know I was gone for a long time. And I know we haven’t really had the chance to get to know each other, and I know that I can’t expect you to want to stay with me.”

“None of those statements were questions,” Merlin said, quirking a grin.

“Hold on, you knob.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “But despite all of those things, I need to ask: will you move to Italy with me?”

Merlin felt his eyes grow bigger in surprise. He half blinked a little as it sunk in.

“To Cremona?”

“Yes.”

“With you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, smiling all the same. “Yes, with me. Unless you want to move there without me.”

Merlin suddenly smiled.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” Arthur asked quizzically, his eyes alight with hope nonetheless.

“Yes, yes, yes I want to move to Italy with you, a million times yes.” Merlin said placing a hand on either side of Arthur’s head and sliding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

“Really?” Arthur said brightly, his tone similar to that of a child excited about getting a gift. “You really want to do it?”

“Arthur,” Merlin placed his forehead against Arthur’s and breathed him in. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“Let’s go, then.” Arthur said, kissing Merlin softly. “Let’s conquer the world together.”

~fin


End file.
